The Perseid
by CombatTombat
Summary: Greece is on the brink of war. Helen, Queen of Sparta and wife to Menelaus, has fled to Troy with Prince Paris. In response, the suitors of Helen meet, assembling a fleet of one thousand ships to reclaim the queen. On Olympus, the gods' squabble, each wanting their own faction to win, as Zeus tries to maintain a balance. And naturally, in the middle of it all is Perseus. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**This chapter will have a bunch of time skips, but that's because this is a shorter series, and I want to set up for the siege itself. Enjoy!**

 _One Year Before the Siege of Troy_

"I will not fight in this war," Percy said, and he didn't fail to notice the way that Apollo and Aphrodite sagged in relief. He looked at Zeus with a frown. "You involved a mortal in the matter of gods, uncle. You must deal with the consequences."

"What would you have had me do, Perseus?" Zeus sighed, "come to you?"

"I would have refused, we both know that," he shook his head. "but you let Eris manipulate you into a war. I would have thought you all to be wiser than this. I'll give you this warning, however, that the first god to intervene in the war in any way guarantees my joining for whichever side they _don't_ support. Let the mortals settle this issue, as it should be."

"Troy is my holy city," Apollo declared, "I will not let it fall."

"Then perhaps a Trojan prince should not have stolen a Greek Queen, Apollo," Percy replied. "Do not interfere, Apollo, because then I will have no choice but to bring my fury down on the city."

His cousin clenched his jaw but remained quiet. Aphrodite too was being oddly silent. Percy had expected her to try and pull him to the Trojan's side, yet she hadn't attempted since the whole debacle began. Then again, it _was_ Aphrodite. She was probably more concerned with Paris and Helen than the fact a war was breaking out. That didn't surprise him in the least.

"I'm returning to my farm," he said slowly, "but I'll be paying attention to the situation. I beg of you, don't give me cause to intervene. I'd hate to have to kill your champions."

He dismissed himself, walking out of the Hall of the Gods. Several immortals called out to him, but he didn't take the time to respond, instead nodding at them as he walked on. He just wanted to go home. His farm was going strong, and he had made a decent living out of it. Of course, a singular man owning a farm for decades did not go unnoticed, and Percy had been visited by many of the kings of Greece and Asia. He had found he disliked or disapproved of many of them, save for one. King Nestor of Pylos had not asked him for advice on how to defeat his enemies, or petitions to lead his armies, but stories from his youth. He had wanted to know about Percy himself. Where he had been in his life, what he had done, what he though of certain issues in the world. It was a refreshing change.

He had almost made it to the exit when he was intercepted by Artemis and Apollo. Both looked relatively shy as they approached him, which told him that the first pitch was coming. The twins were never so nervous around him. He stopped them before they could start.

"I've already declared my neutrality," he told them, "and I doubt Athena let anything stupid happen in less than an hour. I wish you luck, truly, I do, but I will not fight for you, or Troy, unless the Greeks do something positively abysmal. Do not press me."

In hindsight, allowing them to know of a catalyst probably wasn't the best idea. If Percy had known what it would lead to, he never would have told them.

 _Eight Months before the Siege of Troy_

When he awoke that morning, he had a feeling that something was off. Percy's gut instincts were normally spot on, and the unease he felt made him nervous. His armour was resting on it's stand where he had left it, and his shield was still hanging on the hook, but it was his sword that drew his attention. It was on its stand, but it had been moved, rotated a turn so that the opposite side that he had placed it on was facing him. He sighed, knowing what was going to happen.

He opened the door and stepped out, and to his complete lack of surprise, Celyn and Naomi were seated on the floor, poking at the fire.

"You've always been fascinated by my blade, Naomi," Percy said, though neither of them flinched, "if you wanted to look at it, all you had to ask. There was no need to sneak into my room. Now, why did Artemis send you?"

"She didn't exactly send us _here_ , per se," Celyn said slowly, "but this was where we chose to come. We had a… disagreement with Lady Artemis."

Percy frowned. As far as loyalty went, Celyn and Naomi were chief among Artemis supporters. That she would do something that they argued against enough for them to be sent away told him a lot.

"I need to check on my fields," he said, "walk with me."

He didn't wait for any reaction, instead turning and striding out the door. It closed after a moment, and soft footfalls told him that the two Hunters were following him. His crops were booming, which Percy suspected was the result of some magic from Demeter. She did love his gardens.

"Tell me what happened," he asked them after a while, while he was pushing a plough through the earth. He almost felt the glance they shared with each other.

"Lady Artemis managed to convince the wind gods to stop blowing any breeze towards Troy," Naomi explained, "the Achaean fleet is trapped in it's bay. They are pleading with Artemis for something they can do to have the winds blow. She demanded that King Agamemnon sacrifice his daughter, Iphigenia."

Percy stopped pushing the plough and blinked, before turning to the two.

"She demanded the death of a maiden?"

"She did," Celyn confirmed, "that was what the argument was over."

"Gods be good, what inspired that?" He asked in a whisper.

"There has been some… whisperings, to say, among the gods who support Troy," Naomi said, "on how to convince you to join them. You told Lady Artemis and her brother that you would only support Troy if the Greeks did something abysmal. They seem to think a king sacrificing his daughter will be sufficient enough."

"Telling me this betrays the confidence of your mistress," Percy pointed out. The two exchanged another glance.

"It does," Celyn agreed, "but what Lady Artemis is doing is a betrayal to us, her maidens who serve her. If she does not care for other maidens, how can we be certain she cares for us?"

"You are also aware that by telling me this," he continued, "that you will drive me to _join_ the Achaeans, not the Trojans, correct?"

"It has crossed our minds," Naomi admitted, "we are not against the idea. Troy has erred greatly and insulted all of Greece."

"And Aphrodite supports Troy," Percy said knowingly. Of all the Hunters, there was only one who hated the goddess of love more than Naomi and Celyn, and that was Zoe.

"So, she does," Naomi smirked.

"Artemis will not be pleased with us," Celyn spoke up, "and she will realise that we told you rather quickly."

"My farm is a place of peace, and all the gods swore never to harm another on it's land, mortal or otherwise," said Percy, "tend to my fields while I am at war, and make sure my herds don't die. You will be safe from Artemis' wrath here, at least until she calms and regains her senses."

"We are not farmers!" Naomi protested, but Celyn elbowed her in the ribs.

"Thank you, Percy," the shorter Hunter said, beaming at him, "we would be honoured to tend to your home. If I may ask, who will you fight for? Aggamemnon, or yourself?"

"Neither," Percy replied with a small smile, "there is only one King of Greece that I trust to command me, and that is Nestor, of Pylos."

"A wise man," Naomi noted, "even Lady Artemis speaks highly of him."

"There is a reason for that, young one," Percy told her, "perhaps one day, you will understand why."

"I am almost five centuries old!" she protested, causing Percy to laugh loudly. No more needed to be said.

 _Six Months Before the Siege of Troy_

"I am honoured that you would request this of me, Perseus," Nestor told him when he asked to join his retinue. "Are you certain it is I you wish to follow? I am an old man now, not a warrior in my prime like you."

"There are enough warriors among the Achaeans," Percy replied, "but I would follow a king."

"There are quite a few of those as well, Perseus," Thrasymedes, Nestor's eldest, pointed out.

"Not so," Percy laughed, "there are generals, there are leaders, there is a trickster, but I would say that there are only two kings among the Achaeans. Your father is one, the second is Diomedes of Argos. A young king, but wise beyond his years. My cousin Athena favours him highly."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Why did you decide to join us now, Perseus?" Menelaus asked, leaning back in his seat, "I seem to recall you sending my brothers messengers away."

"Well that was because they were messengers," Percy replied, "if your brother had come himself, the answer would have been the same, though I would respect him more for it, same as I would've respected you for coming personally. None did."

"And why join us now, Ancient One?" Diomedes asked. The king of Argos was larger than Percy expected, but he also had a hint of wiliness in his eyes, so Percy rather assumed his assessment on the young man was correct."

"Iphigenia," Percy said simply, "what Artemis did was wrong, and I won't stand for it. Athena armoured me, and my father provided my horses. Together, they gave me my chariot. I come with the blessings of two gods. That is a good omen for you."

"Will you accompany me to Troy, Perseus?" Menelaus asked. "I wish to try and negotiate first but having you there would be a boon for negotiations as well. Your skill as a speaker is legendary."

"That is not for me to decide, Menelaus," Percy said. "I am sworn to Nestor of Pylos. If he gives me leave, I will follow you."

"And I give you such leave, Perseus," Nestor stated with a wry smile. "I would like to try for peace before war."

"Most here would," Percy replied with a frown, "save for the only king who didn't deign to greet me."

"My brother mourns for his daughter," Menelaus stated, "he did not wish to make this affair sombre."

Percy's features softened slightly, but the way that Menelaus' eyes flickered to his right slightly gave him pause. Still, he didn't press. Despite what he thought of Agamemnon, his brother was in the right. For that, at least, he would support him.

"Well then," he grinned, "we have a queen to rescue, don't we?"

Menelaus grinned back, and Percy remembered he was looking at a man less than three decades old.

"Indeed, we do."

 _Two Weeks before the Siege of Troy_

Troy was a magnificent city, Percy would admit that much. Even preparing for a war, it was beautiful. Tall towers of painted stone and gilded bronze glimmered in the sun light, and even in the lower city, there were few beggars, and very little filth to be found. The guards wore sturdy armour and carried large tower shields in a figure eight pattern, painted with intricate details, and their spears were made of solid wood. Their swords were simple, but each soldier had one, a clear sign of the city's wealth They would be a difficult foe if it came to war, that much was certain.

"The guards are ceremonial," Odysseus muttered to him, but Percy shook his head.

"Just because they look nice doesn't mean that they are only for show," he replied, "the one leading us is missing part of his ear, and the one behind us has an arrow wound in his arm. These are soldiers, I have no doubt of that."

They were led through the city to the megaron, the most ornate building in the entire city, but even then, it was built with defence in mind. The walls were half a metre thick, and the doors were reinforced with bronze strips, even if they did have images from the past carved into them. Inside the main hall were many courtiers and allies of Troy. Seated in an ornate throne was a man that Percy hadn't seen in decades. Priam had been a young boy when his father made the journey to his farm, eager for advice on how to subdue his enemies in the east. He had left disappointed.

Priam, however, had asked better questions, questions on how to rule, how to make allies, how to win land without fighting. Percy had found the lad to be clever, so he told him what he wanted to know. It seems he had taken his advice. The old king blinked several times when he saw him standing next to Menelaus and Odysseus.

"Perseus?" He asked, clearly not believing his eyes. Percy bowed his head.

"You've grown much, young Priam," he said, "I remember a boy of barely ten years sitting by my fire pestering me for advice. You've come far from then."

"This is Perseus?" A man close to Menelaus age asked, sizing him up and down, "the Firstborn?"

"That would be correct Hektor," Priam said, "you fight for the Achaeans?"

"I would not be here otherwise," Percy sighed, "but I am only a soldier here, not a king. These two men, however, are. They wish to speak."

Percy spotted Helen without much trouble. Her father, Tyndareus, had pleaded for him to marry his daughter and defend Sparta from the Mycenaeans, but Percy had declined, choosing to remain at his farm. Perhaps if he had, this whole mess may never had happened. She met his eyes before looking away. A young man next to her glared at him harshly. Percy stared right back. The younger man blinked first.

"I've come for my wife, Priam," Menelaus stated. "She was taken from my home by _your_ son. If she is returned to me, I will leave, and we shall have no issues."

"Helen left of her own will," Priam stated with a frown. "My son did not kidnap her."

Percy withheld a groan. This could go on for hours and nothing would be resolved. Thankfully, he did not have to step in. The young man, who Percy assumed was Paris, or Alexander, or whatever his name was, pushed his way to his father.

"Helen chose me, father," he exclaimed, "I will not give her back!"

"Gods be good," Odysseus muttered beside him.

"I don't think they have much care about this, my friend," Percy whispered back, before stepping forward, drawing all attention to himself.

"Priam, King of Troy, I wish to speak." He declared. Priam waved him on cautiously.

"I do not want to fight. It is the last thing I want. I have been fighting since I was born, and I am sick of it. But if I have to fight, I will." Said Percy. "Truthfully, it matters not why Helen left, whether she was taken, or if she went willingly. She is Menelaus' wife, and it is a grave insult for a man to steal another's wife, especially from his own home. There is a fleet of a thousand ships at Imbros, ready to fight for Helen. Many heroes are ready to fight. Ajax, son of Telamon and King of Salamis. Diomedes, King of Argos, Nestor of Pylos, Achilles and his Myrmidons, Agamemnon and his armies. Wily Odysseus, and frightful Menelaus. And I am with them. Let this not come to a war. Let us take Helen and return, so that peace may reign."

"Agamemnon has wanted a war with us for years," Hektor noted, "what is to stop you from simply sacking Troy once you have Helen?"

"If this is resolved peacefully, the suitors will return home. Do you truly think Agamemnon could take Troy alone?" Percy stared hard at the heir of Troy. Impressively, he stared right back, unblinking. Not like his brother at all then.

"He would still try," Hektor stated, "why would others not help him?"

"I cannot make promises for other kings," Percy said, "but know that war would not be immediate. Agamemnon would have to go home. Would you rather have a thousand ships descend on you now, or a hundred in several years?"

"Either way, war is guaranteed," Priam sighed. "I am sorry, but Helen can not return."

Menelaus shot to his feet, his face blank but his eyes raging. "Then it will be war. Let the gods know I tried to resolve this peacefully. Instead, I bring the fury of Greece down on your Asiatic heads." He turned and stalked out, two of his guards following him.

"I beg you, do not let this escalate," Odysseus said, before turning and following him. Percy remained.

"I want to speak with Helen," he said.

"Absolutely not!" Paris roared, trying to lunge at Percy. Hektor and another held him back. Percy watched it all out of the corner of his eye, looking straight at Priam.

"I was not asking, Priam," he said. "I respect you and yours immensely, for the most part, but I will speak with Helen. Or do you think your men can stop me?"

"I—not alone," Priam sighed, "here, and now. In front of my court"

Percy shrugged. What he was about to do wasn't who he was, but he needed to plant the seeds of doubt in the minds of all present. They called him the destroyer, but that did not mean that it was by might alone.

Helen was led to him by Hektor and Paris, who tried to look menacing, placing his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Hektor just sent him an apologetic look.

"Perseus," Helen tilted her head in greeting, "it has been some time."

"Fifteen years, actually," he said. "Helen, if you were unhappy in your marriage, you should have told me. I turned your hand and a kingdom down once. I doubt I would have done it a second time. Such a shame. And to think that Aphrodite made you fall in love with Paris, all so that she could earn an apple. We could have had something real. Instead, you get to watch this city burn, and your lover with it."

And then he turned and walked out. No guards followed him, and the court was silent. When he reached the gate, there was a cluster of men waiting for him. They were all armed and armoured. Percy sighed. He didn't want a fight.

"I truly hope none of you plan to stop me," he warned them, "I am truly not in the mood."

"Not at all, Wise Perseus," A man in the lead said. "I only wished to speak. Chiron spoke highly of you."

"One of his students, are you?" Percy asked, cocking his head to the side as he examined the man. He was tall and lithe, and dark of skin, like many natives of Troas. His hair and beard were kept short and neat, and he had torques of gold on his biceps, a mark of nobility.

"Former student," the man said, "I am Aeneas, King of Dardania. I am sorry that we are to be enemies."

"Foes," he corrected, "I have no issue with you. We may be fighting on opposite sides, but that does not mean we need be enemies."

"May we never meet on the field of battle, then," Aeneas said, holding his hand out.

"For your sake, let us hope it to be true," Percy said, gripping the proffered arm.

If only it had.

 **MMXVIII**

 **So this is a prequel/miniseries for Eternal, because I'm really struggling to get the motivation to write that story at the moment, and I just watched Troy: Fall of a City, which was freaking amazing, as well as reading David Gemmell's Troy trilogy, so if you couldn't tell, the Trojan War has my attention right now. I know that in Eternal, I said that Poseidon and Athena convinced Percy to fight, but like anything that happened thousands of years ago, the truth got a bit muddled. Also, how I've envisioned this story is ten to twelve more chapters, each chapter taking place over the span of a year in the ten year siege.**

 **Now, Percy is old and famous, and many people know his name at this point, as you can tell. He is often sought out by kings and warriors asking for advice on how to defeat their enemies, something he loathes, so when the rare king like Nestor, or a young Priam comes around asking for advice on other matters, Percy can't help but be impressed. He also has a particular dislike for Agamemnon, which is just kind of a fact of the ancient world. No one like Agamemnon, except** _ **maybe**_ **Menelaus, who despite being portrayed as an antagonist in 2004's** _ **Troy**_ **, I see as a more sympathetic character. I also really dislike Paris, so there's that. Finally, Percy knows a lot, about many, many things, from farming to fighting, from building to destroying, from ruling to following. He's millennia old at this point, at the pinnacle of his life. I hope you all enjoy this miniseries!**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	2. Chapter 2

_Day One of the Siege_

Perseus told anyone who asked that he didn't like killing, which was why Achilles was so surprised when he was shown to be so proficient at it. Chiron had told him more than once that Perseus was the most dangerous man alive, and that even Achilles, perhaps the greatest swordsman alive, would be no match should they meet on opposite sides of the field. He loved Chiron, he truly did, but he hadn't believed him when he first met Perseus. The man was wearing a dusty cloak over his simple armour, and his skin was tanned from his work in the sun. He had the look of a peasant, not a killer.

That perception changed on the beaches. The Trojans had erected fortifications to hold the Achaeans back as long as possible. If only that had been their only problem. The prophet Calchas had decreed that the first man to set foot on the earth of Troy was destined to die. Perseus had laughed loudly at this and then thrown himself over the edge of the ship, swimming towards the shore. Somehow, between leaving the ship and walking out of the surf, his plain armour had been replaced with a resplendent bronze set, the most beautiful armour that Achilles had ever seen. The Trojans seemed baffled by the singular warrior walking towards them, sword twirling in one hand, shield held in the other. To be fair, so were many of the Achaeans.

"Gods be good, follow that man!" Menelaus barked, and oars began chopping the water, as ships moved to get to the beach. The first man to drop to the beach after Perseus was Palamedes, who was quickly killed by an arrow to the throat. There was barely a pause to consider what had happened as others followed, forming battle lines on the beach.

By that point, Perseus had already killed near on two dozen men. Achilles had watched silently from the foredeck of his ship as the demigod cut his way through the Trojan lines. A cavalry charge stopped short, throwing their horses from the saddle, killing more than one. An arrow fell short of him by less than an arm's length, and a sword just barely missed his neck, before the man wielding it found himself without an arm below his elbow. By now, the Trojans were panicking. One man had caused immeasurable damage, and the rest of the Achaeans were barely ready for an assault.

A horn blew loudly, and the Trojans began a slow retreat. Perseus stopped where he was, in the middle of a circle of corpses. He watched the Trojans retreat silently, before snatching a spear from the ground and launching it in a perfect arc. One of the soldiers riding away slumped in his saddle, before falling off.

And just like that, the beach was taken. Achilles ordered his Myrmidons to unload and set up a camp, eyes never leaving the immortal demigod standing on top a dune, surrounded by dead Trojans, gaze locked on the city.

"Perseus!" He called out, drawing the attention of the man. "You fought like a demon, old man. Did Chiron teach you?"

Perseus chuckled silently.

"Only the bow," he murmured, "and in return, I taught him the sword. It was mutually beneficial. I imagine you'll use many of the techniques I taught him. Perhaps we can spar at some point."

"Perhaps," Achilles nodded. He could tell the demigod wanted to be left alone, so he instead went to go find the council of kings, who had been meeting in Agamemnon's tent. He hadn't wanted to go, but now he knew he had no choice. The Myrmidons would be essential the Achaean strategy, and he wanted to make sure his men weren't killed for no reason.

Unsurprisingly, Agamemnon was annoyed when he showed up unannounced, but he knew better than to say anything. Not to him.

"We were discussing our assault tomorrow," Menelaus said, and Achilles tipped his head in acknowledgement. While Agamemnon was disliked by many for his imperialistic ambitions, Menelaus was renowned for being a fair king, despite having taken Sparta by force when he was only fifteen. If it had been Menelaus in charge of the war, Achilles suspected even more men would have joined them. "The consensus seems to be that we will win this fight quickly."

"Where is Perseus?" Nestor asked, "I saw him on the dunes earlier, but not since he claimed the beach for us."

There was a subtle twitch in Agamemnon's jaw, but he remained silent for now.

"He was still there last I talked to him, less than an hour ago," Achilles offered, "I can retrieve him, if you wish?"

"There is no need," Agamemnon said, waving a guard over, "I will send a man to summon him."

"I would not advise that," Nestor said, "Perseus will not take kindly to you summoning him. Thrasymedes, my boy, if you would ask Perseus to join us?"

"Of course, father," the young prince rose from his seat, ducking out the tent.

"You should not pamper Perseus so, Nestor," Agamemnon stated with a frown. "He is under our service."

"He is under _my_ service," the king of Pylos corrected, "and only because he knows I respect him more than he respects me. I will not demand anything of him, just as he will not demand anything of me."

Agamemnon opened his mouth, but then closed it. After several more moments, Thrasymedes returned with Perseus in tow. His armour was no longer caked in sand and blood, and Achilles took the opportunity to examine it. The cuirass was made of two pieces, a front and backplate, held together by straps on the shoulders and waist, with scenes from the history of the gods and Greece etched into the metal. He could see Poseidon summoning a storm with his Trident, Zeus throwing his bolt, even Hades vanishing into smoke. The work was exquisite. The vambraces were lined with felt, and while not as extensively worked, still had different images carved into them.

 _The symbols of the gods_ , Achilles realised. There was an eagle for Zeus, a trident for Poseidon, a helm for Hades. There was an owl for Athena and a boar for Ares, a deer and a laurel wreath for Artemis and Apollo. A caduceus for Hermes, and a hammer for Hephaestus. A dove for Aphrodite. Finally, there was a peacock for Hera, and a stalk of Corn for Demeter. It seemed Perseus went with the blessings of all the gods. In addition, Perseus was the only Achaean who wasn't a king to wear a purple plume on his helm, which compared to the rest of his armour was simply plain.

"You requested my presence, my lord?" Perseus addressed Nestor, bowing his head in greeting.

"We've been discussing our assault," Nestor smiled at Perseus, "we do not think we will be here long."

"My father built the walls of Troy," Perseus noted, "and Apollo helped. If they retreat behind them, you would not be able to breach them."

"Then we must defeat them on the field of battle," Menelaus stated, "and we must outnumber them immensely."

"I would not be so optimistic," Perseus said slowly, "to the east, the Hittites watch events here. Troy may not be an ally, but they are trading partners. Dardania to the north has sent support, and I met their king, Aeneas, when I was here last. The Lycians led by Sarpedon have made camp on the plains of Ilus. The Carians, Maeonians, Phrygians, and Thrakians have sent forces. The Ciconian and Pelasgian spearmen have arrived, as have Paeonian archers. Their forces may not match ours in number, but they are all skilled, and are in turn led by skilled warriors."

"Respectfully, Perseus," Agamemnon began, "but we are skilled as well. I have conquered thirteen kingdoms alone! My brother four."

"Only thirteen?" Perseus asked, eyebrow cocked, "forgive me, your knowledge on warfare supersedes my millennia of life tremendously. How foolish of my for not bowing down to your superior wisdom, _King_ Agamemnon."

"That's enough, Perseus," Nestor said gently beside him, "we, of course, acknowledge your wisdom, and take it in mind, but surely we can defeat them?"

"Oh, no I have no doubt of that," Perseus replied, "I just do not believe you will defeat them _tomorrow_. We will be here for some time, I fear."

 _Day Two of the Siege_

The armies lined up across from each other, and Perseus had been correct. There were more Trojans than they had expected, and their generals were riding up and down the lines on their chariots. Achilles himself was on his own chariot, a simple but sturdy construction, Patroclus by his side as always. Nestor was chosen to anchor the right flank, but that was mostly because Perseus was among the warriors, commanding a chariot of his own.

"Achilles!" Perseus called out to him.

"Aye?"

"I'll wager that I get more kills than you," he said, his horses pulling his chariot to him without any command. "And I'm willing to wager my armour."

Achilles blinked. He didn't think he would win that wager, but a chance for armour that beautiful? He had to take it.

"If you'll allow it, I'll take you on that wager as well, Wise Perseus!" Diomedes called out.

"Oh, it's an open offer, my friends," Perseus laughed back. "I doubt any of you will top me, however!"

And then a horn blew. It was Agamemnon, signalling the attack. The chariots cleared the soldiers first, Perseus leading the Achaean charge. With a jerk, just before his horses reached the Trojan lines they veered right, and the demigod leapt out of his chariot, slamming into a Trojan soldier. Once more, Perseus had first blood. And second, and third, and—Achilles realised that he needed to start killing if he wanted that armour. He too jumped from his chariot, rolling to his feet, before ducking under a sword, gutting the man who had dared attack him. Another man came at him with a spear, and he opened that man's throat. A spray of blood covered his face, and he grinned. If there was one thing that Achilles loved the most in the world, it was battle.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXPOVCHANGEXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Helen watched the battle from the walls. She could see many of the kings from both sides. Menelaus and Agamemnon were standing side by side, and while she wished her former husband no ill, she hoped someone struck his brother down. The world would be a better place without him in it. She could see bold Diomedes and cunning Odysseus carving a dent in the left flank of the Trojan forces, and Achilles and his Myrmidons buckling the centre. On the right, Wise Nestor and his men were following a trail opened by Perseus, who seemed intent on getting to the walls of Troy itself. Dozens of men were throwing themselves in his path in a hope to slow him down, yet none seemed to last very long.

The other Achaeans could see this, and it made them fight harder, for reasons that Helen couldn't fathom. Whatever words she had seen Perseus exchange with them, it made them bloody and ruthless. Or perhaps they truly were willing to fight that hard to retrieve her? She must have had a troubled look on her face, because Paris reached over and took her hand in his own.

"Fear not, my love," he said, "Hektor will beat the Achaeans back, and you will never have to return to Sparta."

Helen nodded silently, her thoughts racing, but it was Priam's gasp that drew her focus once more.

"Is that Pylaemenes?" He asked. Helenus leaned forward, before nodding at his father. "Why is the fool challenging Perseus?"

Helen looked to the bulge in Trojan lines that indicated Perseus' position, and sure enough, a singular man was approaching him, a spear levelled at him. There was an exchange of words, and eventually, Perseus gave a very clear shrug. Pylaemenes' spear shot out, but Perseus pinned it to the earth before snapping it with his foot. Priam's brother-by-law drew a sword and charged Perseus again.

Helen didn't even see him move. He just… leaned to the side, and then Pylaemenes stumbled past him, collapsing in the sand a few paces behind where Perseus had been standing. Priam was gripping the edge of the walls tightly, and Hecuba rested a hand on his shoulder. A cheer erupted from the Achaean lines, and a horn sounded from Hektor's position. The Trojan rallied and assaulted. Helen closed her eyes for a moment. This would go back and forth for hours.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The battle had indeed gone back and forth for hours, at least until Aeneas led a brilliant counter attack against Menelaus position, threatening to push the Spartan king back to the ships. Both sides had finally retired, the Greeks back to the beach, the Trojans to their camps around the city. Hektor rode back in being cheered by the people, but Helen had seen the look on his face. It was one of a man who knew what was coming but didn't like it.

She hadn't been present at the war council, but Paris had, and he had stormed out in anger. He had yet to visit her, but Helen had a feeling that she had been the subject that had enraged him so. Helen loved him, she was certain of that, but she felt as if Paris didn't see her any differently than Menelaus had—as a possession. She sighed, pushing the door to her room open, before closing it behind her.

"Hello, Helen," the voice was quiet, but she recognised it instantly, whirling around. "Don't scream, for both our sakes."

She didn't think she would have been able regardless, but she obeyed.

"Perseus," she greeted in return. The ancient demigod grinned at her.

"I see that Paris isn't here," he noted, "such a shame. I was told that he loved you deeply."

"How did you get here?" She asked shakily.

"You'll have to be more specific, my dear," he chided gently, "if you mean Troy, well, some little prick of a prince thought that stealing the Queen of Sparta was a wise decision. If you mean into the city proper, and your room in particular? Well that was easy. I climbed the walls and then walked here. The guards are abysmal."

"Are you taking me back to Menelaus?" she asked.

"I could, but I won't." Perseus replied, standing up. "It wouldn't matter, either. Blood has been spilt. The Achaeans are honour bound to see this siege through. You, on the other hand, need to see the consequences of your actions. Aphrodite doesn't care for anyone in this city, and she won't care when it's sacked. You're going to watch it all happen. While we choke the life out of Troy, you will watch, and when I storm this miserable city, you'll see what you have brought upon these people. In the end, Helen, I want you to remember that this is your fault—yours and that pathetic worm of a prince."

He walked past her, and exited through a window. Perseus didn't even glance over his shoulder before he vanished from sight. Helen could barely think, she was shaking so hard. She collapsed to the floor and started sobbing. That was how Paris found her. When he asked her what had happened, she had replied with the only word she knew to describe the situation.

Apollyon. The Destroyer.

 **MMXVIII**

 **There we go! Sorry for the wait between chapters, I'm on my last week of school. I have two more exams on Tuesday and then I'm done for summer! After which I go to college, which is a whole other situation. Anyway, this chapter was through the perspective of two of the most important people in the Illiad, Achilles and Helen. I'm personally of the belief that Helen did love Paris at first, but it soon faded when she realised that Aphrodite had intervened, and when the Trojan War began. I find it really amusing when I read things about how Paris is so much better than Menelaus because he sees Helen as a person, but he really doesn't. From the beginning, she was a prize to him for giving Aphrodite the Golden Apple.**

 **Onto Achilles. The king of Thessaly and commander of the Myrmidons. I know that Troy (2004) said that Patroclus was his cousin, but warning, they're gay as fuck for each other.** _ **That**_ **is pretty much the consensus by anyone who knows anything about Mycenean Greece, and specifically the Trojan War/Illiad.**

 **Lastly, the spelling I use. Hektor can be used interchangibly with Hector. I like He** _ **k**_ **tor because it looks ye olde. Anyway, that's my message to the readers over. I'll try to get another chapter out tomorrow or Sunday, or maybe both. But Monday/Tuesday I will be doing Exam stuff. Pray for me my friends, because the end is nigh.**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 _Year One, Day Thirty-Six_

"Respectfully, King Nestor, but this siege isn't achieving anything," Percy sighed in the king's tent. "All that's been accomplished is Troy's allies flocking to the Plains of Ilus, and us fighting them day after day. It's a stalemate, my lord."

"What would you suggest, Perseus?" Antilochus asked in a tired voice. "We don't have the soldiers to mount any sort of meaningful assault on Troy."

"We can't take Troy," Percy said, raising his hand when the sons of Nestor went to interrupt him. The wise king was sitting silently and listening. "Not as it is, supported by it's allies. While their homes are safe, they won't leave the plain. We need to draw them away. Small forces raiding and sacking towns, threatening supply lines and the peace."

"Who would you propose, then, Perseus?" Nestor asked, "who among us could we spare?"

"Achilles commands a small, but flexible force," Percy offered, "we need not send all the Myrmidons to fight, nor send Achilles off to do so, but one of his regiments sent to an ally of Troy could cause more damage than these skirmishes we have here."

"I cannot make any commitments for the troops of other kings," Nestor said, "speak to Achilles, as well as Diomedes and Odysseus. If you gain their approval, I will bring the matter to Agamemnon."

Percy withheld a groan, but bowed, and left the tent. He started walking towards the Myrmidons camp but paused when he saw Patroclus duck into Achilles tent. Perhaps it would be better to go see Odysseus and Diomedes first, he decided. He pivoted on his heel and made his way towards the camps of the Ithacans and Argives. The two favoured kings of Athena had become fast friends, and often fought side by side in battle, though Diomedes was a far better fighter than Odysseus.

The guards knew him by sight and let him pass without word. At the beginning of the siege, a Mycenean guard had tried to stop Percy from entering Agamemnon's tent, so he broke his arms. He wasn't forbidden from anywhere in the camp anymore. One of Odysseus men saw him approach and called for his king. Diomedes exited his own tent at the ruckus.

"Perseus!" Odysseus exclaimed, clearly pleased, "what can I do for you?"

"I want to end this siege," Percy said, "I have a plan to do so, but I need your support."

"Tell us this plan then, and perhaps we will give it to you," Diomedes said, speaking for the two.

"Small detachments of soldiers sent to raid and besiege the cities of Troy's allies," Percy explained, "Dardanus to the north, Caria to the south, and anything in between. We need to drive the Trojan's allies away, and by destroying their homes, we also cut off their supplies."

"That's a rather devious plan," Odysseus noted, leaning back into the sand. "I love it. You have my support, and should Agamemnon allow it, my men."

"It is a good plan," Diomedes agreed, "but you cannot besiege cities with raiding parties."

"Normally, I'd agree," Percy tilted his head in acknowledgement, "but the armies of the allies are here, which means their cities will be lightly defended. A force of five hundred men would be able to take it."

"Five hundred is an oddly specific number, which means that you've already got someone in mind." Odysseus stated, head cocked to the side, "Achilles is the only one to divide his troops into groups of five hundred. You plan on asking for Myrmidons?"

"I do," Percy said, "but he and Patroclus were… busy, so I came here first."

"Ah, that explains it, then," Diomedes laughed, "those two are deeply invested in each other. It is touching."

"It is," Percy agreed. "Do I have your support, Diomedes?"

"It was never in question, Wise Perseus," Diomedes stated, "I simply wished to know more of your thoughts."

"All you need to do is ask, my friend," Percy laughed, "did Calchas not predict we would be here for another nine years only yesterday?"

"So he did," Diomedes smiled, "I may take you on that offer one day, ancient one."

"I look forward to it," Percy said. A large crash drew their attention, and Percy's eyes narrowed when he saw a figure bathed in golden light firing arrow after arrow at the Greek Camp. Apollo was either incredibly bold or incredibly stupid to get involved.

"Gods, where did they get so many archers?" Diomedes cried out.

"Only one, actually," Percy countered, drawing his sword, "I'll deal with it. Make sure the men are out of sight and hidden. Spread the word, now!"

Men ran off in all direction as Percy jogged up the dunes. Apollo stopped firing when he approached. He looked unapologetic.

"Agamemnon has stolen the daughter of one of my priests. I will get her back." He told him.

"No, you won't," Percy replied, the tip of his sword doing little circles, "have the Trojan do it. I told you what would happen if you intervened."

"You're already with the Achaeans, Percy," Apollo scoffed, "what more can you do?"

"Oh, I really wish you hadn't said that," Percy sighed, before he started walking towards Troy. Apollo stared after him before following.

"What are you doing?" He asked, but Percy didn't answer. "Percy, what are you doing?"

"More," he answered simply. After an hour of walking, he was below the walls of Troy. "You and my father made these walls, only a few generations prior, did you not?"

"What are you doing?" Apollo demanded again.

"Return to Olympus," Percy told him, "and suffer the consequences of intervening."

Apollo opened his mouth to speak, but thunder boomed loudly overhead, despite the clear sky. A warning from Zeus. Apollo grunted, but disappeared. After a moment, Priam peeked his head out over the walls.

"What do you want, Perseus?" He demanded.

"In general? An end to this war," he said, "but right now, I wish to make a deal. Send someone to fight me. In fact, send ten men. Send twenty. If they manage to draw blood, I will withdraw from any assaults upon Troy, only defending the Achaean camp."

"And if they do not?" Hector asked beside his father.

"In that case, I wish to speak with Aeneas. We have a mutual acquaintance." Percy answered.

"Very well," Priam conceded. "Give us an hour."

"You have it," Percy said. "Sound a horn three times and I will come. I will not be far, Priam, remember that."

And with that, Percy turned and walked back a quarter of the distance to the beach. He was still on the plains, but far enough that the Trojans couldn't just rush out and surprise him. He didn't think they would anyway, but he also knew better than to underestimate desperate mortals.

He was sharpening his sword when the kings rode to him, led by Agamemnon.

"What are you doing?" The King of Mycenae demanded.

"I've issued a challenge to Priam," he said, "to send as many men as he wishes to draw blood from me. If they win, I return to the camp, and will only fight to defend it. If I win, I get a meeting with Aeneas, king of Dardania."

"Why did you not ask for Helen?" Menelaus asked in shock.

"I made a deal I knew they would accept," Percy said, "they would not return Helen, not even if I killed all of Priam's adult sons. But a meeting with Aeneas isn't asking too much. Honestly, it's not the prize that I care for, but the fight. It's a message."

"How could that possibly be a message?" Agamemnon asked clearly annoyed, "they could send out a hundred men!"

"That's the point," Percy answered, "I wouldn't have issued the challenge if I thought I might lose. I'm thinking twenty men will come, and they'll be led by some of Troy's better warriors. I plan to kill them all, you see. And with the Royal family and half the city watching, how long do think it will be before word spreads of the man who killed a score of men without taking a single cut?"

"Terrify the people," Odysseus noted, "it is a clever plan. What if you are cut?"

"Then I return to the camp, and only fight to defend it." Percy said, "I made a promise, after all."

"Nestor, have this madness cease!" Agamemnon snapped. The old King of Pylos shook his head.

"It is a good plan, and I support Perseus." He said. "Shall we assembled the army?"

"I wouldn't," Percy finished sharpening his sword, "but feel free to watch. You young ones might learn a trick or three."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Percy was right on the nose. Exactly twenty men came out. Most of them wore simple tunics and a single bronze plate for armour, but three of them wore heavier, more ornate armour and carried better weapons. Nobles, and judging from the look the three had, sons of Priam. He stood waiting for them, the Achaean kings waiting outside the range of the archers.

They formed a line in front of him, spears lowered and waiting for commands from the princes behind them. Percy grinned at them, before flicking his sword into the ground in the gap between them.

"Come on then," he said to them, "all you have to is draw my blood." He paused, cocking his head to the side. "Though, the moment you attack me, your lives are forfeit. Do keep that in mind."

The men shared nervous glances, but when one of Priam's sons growled, they lowered their spears and began closing in around Percy. He smiled to himself.

The first man thrust his spear, but Percy just twisted to the side before gripping the haft tightly. Another came in with a lower jab, only to find his spear broken when Percy stamped on it with his foot. Then he was dead, his allies spear thrust into his throat. Percy ducked under the swing of a sword before kneeing the offender in the groin, breaking his wrist, stealing his sword, and impaling him on it. Priam gasped above the gates.

Another spear came at him, and he spun out of the way, directing it into the gut of another of the soldiers. He dove forward and yanked his sword from the earth before turning back to the Trojans.

"I'm truly sorry," he said, "but you'll be buried as heroes. Remember that."

And then he was upon them. Truth be told, he had started without his sword to make a point to not only the Trojans, but to the Achaeans as well, but having it would send a deeper, bloodier message. One that Priam wouldn't forget.

An arm detached from one of the kings sons, and the man went down screaming, before Percy ended it with a stomp to the throat. The final son went quicker, a simple jab through the throat. Now all he to do was deal with the rabble. They looked far more nervous now than when they started, and now, there were only fifteen left. Two quick swipes of his sword cut that number to thirteen. Then ten, seven, four, and one.

The last man had been hamstrung during the fight, and was trying to crawl to the gates. Percy wiped his sword on the tunic of a dead man before sticking it in the ground again. He made his way over to the man who was a dozen paces from the gate now.

"Please!" He begged, "I have a wife! A son!"

"I really am sorry," Percy sighed, before snapping his neck. He rose back up and marched back to his sword, snatching it out of the ground and pointing it at Paris.

"It should have been you, Prince Paris!" He yelled, "they died for your folly! For your lust! Look a this! Look at _me_! I am covered in blood and yet none of it is mine. Three of your brothers fell, and seventeen innocent men, because _you_ wanted a married queen.

"This is not the vengeance of the gods! This is _ME!_ This is _MY_ vengeance! This is _Greece!_ Remember that when you bury your brothers!"

 **MMXVIII**

 **Percy really hates Paris. So do I, for that matter. I know I said I was going to get this chapter out on Saturday or Sunday, but life got the better of me. On the bright side, I'm done with my exams, so I have more time to focus on writing.**

 **I reread the Iliad because of this, and I've read some character studies of the characters as well, which really just served to inflame my hatred of Paris. Anyway, next chapter, Percy and the Achaeans will have been raiding and sieging Troy's allies for near on four years, which brings us to year five. I'll probably get this to chapter five or six, and then the Trojan War will be over. And I'll get back to Eternal.**

 **OH! I nearly forgot, I've decided to rewrite the Son of Neptune, take it at a slower pace, and change things so that way I can write a new sequel since Children of the Gods was nixed. Let me know what you think!**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 _Year Six, Day Eight_

"Take the city!" Percy roared, "The first man to start a fire will be the first man to die by my blade!"

It was a moot warning. The men he was leading were Myrmidons, and they obeyed without question. Achilles led another force on the other side of the city, striking at the main gates. Nestor, Agamemnon, Menelaus, and Menestheus watched from the hills in the distance. This was the ninth siege in five years, and the results on Troy were beginning to show. The Trojans had attempted to launch an assault on the beach camp, thinking the Achaeans to be weak, but Diomedes and Odysseus had fought them off.

The gates flung open and the men rushed in. Percy was the last to enter the city, and by that point, the resistance was token. Achilles at their main gate, and Percy at their second. Lyrnesseus was doomed to fall. He almost felt pity for the city. Almost.

A man rushed out of a building waving a sword wildly. Percy went to kill him on instinct when he saw how young he was. He was a boy, barely a man. Instead, he let the boy run him through before clamping down on his wrists, preventing him from moving. Several Myrmidons paused at the sight.

"That was not very smart," Percy said, "but it was very brave. What is your name?"

"I am Plautus!" The boy declared, though there was a tremble in his voice.

"Well, Plautus, you are in luck today. Had I been anyone else, they would be dead. Luckily, I am not just anybody, but let us pretend you have slayed me. You have a choice now. My armour, or my sword. Which do you want?"

A group of soldiers emerged from the same house that Plautus had, dragging who Percy assumed was his family out. A sword rose, but Percy snapped a command to hold.

"My sword, or my armour, Plautus," Percy said, "which do you want?"

"I—both?" The boy tried. Percy stared at him for a moment before laughing.

"Oh, you are a bold one," he told him, "very well, for your bravery in combat, and for slaying me, you shall have both my weapons and armour. Are you farmers?"

"Aye," Plautus' father responded, "driven into the city by the war."

"I have a farm in Macedonia, it has been untended for several years now," Percy explained, "I'll take you to a ship, and have some friends escort you to it. You may work my fields for me until I return. Keep anything you make from selling the crops. Perhaps you may even buy my farm from me by the time I come home."

"But we are Trojan!" A young woman, either Plautus' sister or perhaps an aunt, cried out.

"I will not offer again," Percy said, "would you rather be a Trojan in Greece, or dead?"

"I apologise for my daughter," the father stated, "we accept your generous offer."

This was when Achilles and Patroclus wandered over, clearly having been watching the proceedings. Eurodos

"And what do we have here, Perseus?" the son of Thetis asked with a grin.

"I was slain by Plautus here," Percy motioned to the boy, "as a reward, he gets my arms and armour, and he and his family will become tenants on my farm in Macedon."

Patroclus grinned at him, and nudged Achilles. The two had a silent conversation before the son of Thetis sighed.

"Your farm is near my kingdom," he said, "I need to bring in reinforcements to replace the losses we've suffered over the years. I'll send twenty of my men with Eudoros to escort the family to your farm on the way to Thessaly."

"Many thanks," Percy nodded his head in acknowledgement, before spying the girl being held in binds by Phoenix, one of Achilles' most trusted commanders. "Who's the girl?"

"I'm older than you, Greek scum!" she spat at him. He laughed loudly. Physically, he looked as if he had only lived perhaps two decades, and it was true, she did look older than him.

"I doubt it," he replied, "did you happen to be born before Poseidon was swallowed by the Crooked One?"

The girl paused and stiffened. "You are Perseus."

He bowed before her.

"One and the same, my lady," he grinned, "and who are you?"

"I am Briseis, daughter of Briseus." She told him, jutting her chin out proudly.

"The king of Lyrnesseus? How is your father?"

"Dead," Briseis replied, "he threw himself from the top of a tower when the walls were breached."

"My condolences," Percy said, though all knew it was hollow. "She is a princess, Achilles. Best keep her away from Agamemnon. He has a thing for beautiful women, I hear."

"He would not be a fool enough to try and take her," the son of Thetis spat.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Percy replied, "it has nothing to do with foolishness and everything to do with pride. Be careful, my friend. He may be a coward, but he is not an enemy to made lightly."

"We will be careful," Patroclus interceded, "but even Proud Agamemnon knows better than to make an enemy of the Myrmidons."

"On that, we agree," Percy conceded, "I must go report to Nestor. Till we next see each other, my friends."

"Until then," Achilles nodded, before whistling loudly. Patroclus detached from his side and made his way to Plautus and his family.

"So you slayed Perseus, eh?" Percy heard him ask as he walked away. "Would you mind telling me how you did it? I've yet to beat him in a fight."

Percy didn't hear the response, as he pulled himself onto the back of a horse before making his way up the hill. The four kings awaited him patiently, most likely due to the urging of Nestor, Menestheus, or both. The king of Athens was more of a warrior, but he could strategize when he needed to, and that required its fair share of patience.

"The city is taken?" Nestor asked.

"It is," Percy confirmed, "Briseus is dead by his own hand. The city is still intact. We will strip it of anything useful before we destroy it. That will drive more refugees towards Troy."

"And his daughter?" Agamemnon asked, a flash of greed and lust in his eyes.

"Taken by Achilles as a war prize," Percy stated, enjoying the deflation of the King of Mycenae. "His first of the war, as well."

The warning was clear, and by the way Agamemnon looked away, it was received clearly as well.

"There's a family being escorted out of the city," Menelaus spotted.

"Ah yes, that would be young Plautus and his kin." Percy replied. "The boy has barely seen his twelfth year, but he tried to kill me. Stabbed me in the sides. I gave him my weapon and armour, and decided to let his family work my fields for me in Macedon."

"You're just letting a family of Trojans go?" Agamemnon asked in disbelief.

"I don't see why not," he said, "they're farmers. A husband, wife, daughter and son. What threat could they pose to us?"

"They could spread word of our positions!"

"The Trojans already know we're raiding their allies," he countered, "that's why you left Ajax with Diomedes and Odysseus. Since this war started, have I ever done anything that would harm our cause?"

That shut Agamemnon right up, and Percy withheld a victorious cry. He found most days that he wished he had just stayed at his farm. Life was simple there.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXPOVCHANGEXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"For Zeus' sake, Paris, would you just shut up!" Hektor snapped. The table became deathly silent. Hektor was renowned for his patience and was usually rather soft-spoken with his family. To hear him speak to his brother so aggressively was surprising. It made Priam rouse himself at the head of the table.

"Peace, Hektor!" he soothed, "what is the issue?"

"My idiot of a brother wants to challenge the Greeks to a fight, a duel, for the end of the war." Hektor ground out. Helen couldn't help but emphasize with him. She loved Paris, but she found herself beyond exasperated with him lately.

"It is not a bad plan!" Paris defended, "I am certain I could beat Menelaus!"

"They would not send Menelaus, you dolt," Helenus drawled, "they would send Perseus, the immortal with nearly seven millennia of experience. Are you still certain you could win?"

"Helenus," Hecuba sighed, "don't speak to your brother that way."

"If he wishes to act like an idiot, he will be addressed as one, mother," the prince replied.

"I am with Helenus," Hektor said. "I have fought this war for six years. I have seen thousands of men die, and yet the Achaeans are still here, are they not? They ravage our allies, cut off our supplies, and each season sees new soldiers arrive to reinforce them. Have you heard what they say in the streets, father? Mother? How they describe Helen?"

"Leave her out of this!" Paris snapped.

"They call her the face that launched a thousand ships," Hektor continued unperturbed. "And they are not exaggerating. Aeneas has had his scouts taken notes. The people are wrong. It is _over_ a thousand ships. All of Greece has come for her. I am not saying we return her, it would serve no use, but let us be realistic. We are not fighting a sustainable war, we are fighting for survival."

"The Achaeans would not be such a threat if not for their few champions," Priam noted, "Achilles, Perseus, Diomedes, Ajax Telamon."

"Don't be absurd father," Hektor sighed. Helen blinked. He truly was frustrated if he spoke to his father that way. "The Achaeans outnumber us enough that they can send multiple armies out to sack cities and still maintain a strong camp at the beach. Even without their champions, their soldiers would overwhelm us given time. Our hope lies in our allies, who, understandably, are angry that they must camp outside our city while their own burn to the ground."

"What if we ensured that Menelaus was the chosen champion?" Deiphobus suddenly spoke up.

"Explain," Priam waved him on.

"Menelaus is the offended party in the eyes of the Achaeans," Deiphobus noted, "what if we offer him the chance to win Helen back?"

"Absolutely not!" Paris shouted, leaping to his feet. Helenus and Hipponous restrained him and forced him into his seat.

"Did you not just say that you could beat him, Paris?" Hektor said, "I will send a messenger to the Achaean camp with the terms. Paris and Menelaus, spear, shield and sword, to death or a yield. If Menelaus wins, he takes Helen and goes home with his army, along with compensation of some form. If we win, we keep Helen, but the Achaeans still return to their homes."

Priam was silent for several moments. Helen wondered what her life had become that she had left one household for being treated like a possession to another just to be treated the same way.

"Send the message, Deiphobus," Priam said, "Hektor, you will train Paris everyday until the day of the duel, whenever it is decided. He _must_ win. Do you understand, my son?"

"Of course, father," Hektor said, before grabbing Paris by the scruff of his neck. "Come, brother, we have training to do."

"But we just ate!"

"And?" Hektor was unimpressed, "you are sated. What better time to train?"

Helen watched them go silently, before staring at her dish. The conversation was starting to recover when the door flew open, and Aeneas, King of Dardania, strode in, wearing dusty armour, blood dripping from a cut on his arm.

"Aeneas!" Priam cried out, rising to his feet, "you are harmed!"

"I apologise for the intrusion, uncle," the king stated, "but I come bringing ill news. Hektor sent me to Lyrnesseus for reinforcements. The city has fallen to the Achaeans led by Perseus and Achilles. Briseus is dead, and his daughter captured. One of his sons escaped, but the others were cut down on the orders of Agamemnon."

"Why did they let Briseis live?" Andromache asked with a frown. "If they were just going to butcher the rest?"

"I do not know," Aeneas admitted, "we were attacked by Perseus before we could find out more. Half the men that accompanied me are dead, cut down by one man. It was… horrifying. He wasn't armed, nor armoured. He killed them with his bare hands."

Helen felt sick. She had known what Perseus could do, she had seen him fight in the field, but to use his hands? It was animalistic. Helenus turned to Priam.

"Do you see what Paris brought to our home?" He demanded, rising from his seat. "He has brought Thanatos incarnate, the wrath of the gods upon our home. I will go pray to Apollo that Paris beats Menelaus, and that the Achaeans leave us. I would advise you to do the same, father."

And then he stalked out.

"He is correct," Deiphobus sighed, "though his way of delivering his words were cruel. I will join my brother in prayer."

He rose and began walking to the door. He paused by Helen.

"I do not blame you, sister," he said, "but others will. Brace yourself for that."

 **MMXVIII**

 **Year six! Three more to go, and then the war is over. Due to travelling, the first and second part of the chapter take place about six months apart, i.e. Percy and the Myrmidons sacking Lyrnesseus, and then six months later, the Trojan royal family dinner. The next chapter will take place a month later, during the duel between Paris and Menelaus, and some of you know how that goes. If you don't—first of all, shame, and second of all, it's based on the actual myth. As always, feel free to leave a review or send me a PM!**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

 _Year Six, Day One-hundred and Ninety-Two_

Percy had offered to represent Menelaus, but the terms from Priam had been explicitly clear. The two leading parties would duel each other, no champions to represent them, for the right to Helen. Agamemnon had raged and insisted that they not take the offer, but after six years, all were keen to return home—all save Agamemnon, and Achilles, who revelled in the fighting. The king of Thessaly had been reinforced by another five hundred Myrmidons to replace the losses suffered over the past six years.

So instead, Percy stood with Nestor as the two armies stood across from each other. Aeneas had been placed opposite of them, Priam clearly hoping the son of Aphrodite would be able to stall Percy long enough should a fight break out. He wouldn't be enough. But it wouldn't matter. Percy knew that Menelaus would win this fight without much trouble. He had no doubt that Hektor had been training his brother, but like the rest of the Achaeans, Menelaus had been fighting for the entirety of the war and had improved exponentially since it began. Percy had seen it in the few times he sparred with him.

Paris strutted out of the Trojan ranks, but the moment that he saw Menelaus, whose armed was scarred and battered, he hesitated. The king of Sparta carried a large round shield with the symbol of the Lacedemonians on it, and his spear was nearly two metres long. There was a scar on his helmet where a blade had scored a cut near his eye. All in all, it would be a frightening sight for most men. Paris looked about ready to piss himself.

"Menelaus will win this," Nestor muttered.

"You are correct, my king," Percy said, "but even then, Agamemnon will not give up. He may well convince many of the other kings to remain, or bribe them into doing so."

"When Menelaus wins, and Helen is returned, I will leave," Nestor said, "I have lost little to this war, yet I am tired of it."

"That makes two of us, my king. Sometimes I wish I had simply remained on my farm. Life would have been much simpler."

"That is true," Nestor noted, "but a simple life is not always the life that we are given. I have not lived a simple life, but it is my hope that you will live many more, long after I am gone."

"You may die, Nestor, but you will never be gone," Percy told him, "not while I still live. I have served many kings in my years, but you are the first that I am honoured to do so for. I could not have chosen a better man to follow."

Nestor clasped his wrist. "And I could not have accepted a better man into my service."

Before Percy could respond, a loud horn blew, and Hektor shoved Paris towards Menelaus. Paris looked to his brother for support.

"Reap what you have sown, brother," Hector said, loudly enough for all to hear. "Or is Helen the one who should be fighting for Troy? Is Helen the one who gives the commands? Are you simply the lover-boy who will not fight for his city if it means he will not get his woman?"

Percy knew what Hektor was doing. Everyone could hear him, and so Paris was shamed into fighting. It was effective at least. Paris lowered his spear and marched slowly towards Menelaus, before lobbing it at him. The King of Sparta laughed as he stepped to the side, before flinging his own weapon towards the prince of Troy.

Paris threw himself to the ground to avoid the strike, and an unlucky Trojan soldier was struck by the spear that had been thrown. Percy's eyes narrowed. Menelaus was strong, but not _that_ strong. Paris rose and charged forward, before Menelaus' shield slammed into his face. The prince stumbled backwards, but Menelaus kicked his legs out before grabbing him by the crest on his helmet. He began dragging Paris towards the Achaean lines, revelling in the cheers that they were directing at him.

There was a shift in the wind, and the chin-strap of Paris helmet snapped, causing him to fall to the ground. Menelaus sighed, and drew his sword. The wind began blowing harder, and Percy realised what was happening. His eyes shifted from the fight towards the Trojan lines. Nestled between two burly soldiers who wouldn't even know she was there, was Aphrodite. Her face was furrowed in concentration, and Percy took a step forward. Her eyes shot to him and widened. But then she waved her hand, and Paris vanished as Menelaus brought his sword in a downwards stroke in a puff of smoke. The sword cut through air, and all sounds stopped.

"What is this?" Menelaus roared. "Where did he go?"

Agamemnon took a step forward. "The Trojan broke the deal! My brother won that match fairly! Give us Helen!"

"The fight was not ended!" Hektor shot back, "Something—someone—took my brother from the field of battle. He has not lost yet!"

A familiar feeling struck Percy, and his eyes went to the Trojan lines once more. Standing next to a man with a large bow was another soldier, pointing directly at Menelaus. Percy blinked, and the soldier was replaced with Athena.

"Don't you dare," he muttered under his breath, but the Goddess heard him, and even locked eyes with him. "Don't do it Athena. Don't—"

It was too late. Athena said something, and the soldier fired. Percy didn't hesitate. His dagger was out of its sheath and flying in less than a heartbeat. It almost missed the arrow, but nudged it just enough that instead of striking Menelaus in the stomach, it pierced his hip instead. He stumbled backwards into Agamemnon's arms.

"We are betrayed!" He cried out. "The Trojans have betrayed our sacred truce!"

Hektor had whirled around and was searching for the man who had fired, but that was when Achilles let out an earth-shattering roar and led his Myrmidons in an assault. The other Achaeans began charging as well, and Nestor began barking orders.

"Perseus?" He asked when he noticed that Percy wasn't moving. "What is it?"

"I am going to kill one of their leaders, and then I am withdrawing from the field of battle." Percy informed him. "Aphrodite worked to remove Paris from the duel, but Athena has sparked this battle. I am sorry, but you know my oath."

"I—I understand," Nestor nodded, "gods be with you."

"Oh, I doubt they are. Otherwise I would still be home."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hektor brought the pommel of his sword down on a man's collarbone, before sliding the sword down and opening his chest up. Another man was trampled by Helenus' horse, while Pandarus shot a third one in the chest. It gave him a brief respite to study the field of battle. Aeneas had managed to stall Nestor's forces, though he couldn't see any sign of Perseus among them. Achilles and the Myrmidons had almost driven a wedge between them, but Phorcys and his Phrygians had stemmed it.

That was when Hektor saw a flash of a blade and a man fall to the earth missing an arm. Then another, his stomach opened up as his organs spilled onto the sand. A third barely had his head still attached to his body. Perseus was in the centre.

Phorcys saw it too, and rallied his personal guard, before pushing towards the demigod. Hektor swore to himself.

"Phorcys!" He called, but the king didn't see him. He grabbed Helenus by the arm. "Stop Phorcys before he gets himself killed!"

Helenus nodded, before pausing.

"I'm sorry, brother," he said, motioning towards the Phrygian king.

Perseus had cut him down in the time it took Hektor to grab his brother, and six of his guards were dead as well.

"Gods damn him!" Hektor swore aloud, before kicking his horse into a gallop. He slid off it and came to a stuttering halt by Perseus, who had begun to walk back to the Achaean lines. The immortal paused.

"Hektor," Perseus greeted, "I am done with the fighting for today. I was going to return to the camp."

"Phorcys was my friend," Hektor stated, "honour dictates—"

"I can't be killed, child," Perseus said patiently. "And even if I could, you would not get the chance. Do not throw your life away here, Hektor. If you are to die, it will not be by my sword."

"I must try," Hektor said, "regardless of whether or not I could succeed."

Perseus sighed, but drew his sword from his sheath. He reached down and slipped a shield onto his arm. It was the one that Menelaus had used during the duel, abandoned when one of his soldiers shot at the king. Hektor attacked first, slamming the rim of his shield into Perseus', before slashing down with his blade.

"I did not order Menelaus to be shot," he told the demigod. He didn't know why, but he felt it necessary to justify himself to the immortal.

"I know you did not," Perseus replied, ducking under the strike before flicking the blade away with his own, "the gods interfered for both parties. Aphrodite saved your brother, and Athena forced the archer to shoot Menelaus. That is why I killed your friend. But it is also why I was leaving the battle."

Hektor lunged forward, but Perseus was too fast, stepping to the side. Most would have taken advantage, but instead, the son of Poseidon simply backed away further, letting Hektor recover. A horn sounded from the Achaean side of the battlefield, and for the first time, Hektor noticed that all the fighting around them had ceased, as soldiers from both sides stopped to watch the Warrior-Prince of Troy fight the Firstborn. Perseus grinned at him.

"It seems we have conceded the field to you," he said, "this was a good fight, Prince Hektor. I do hope we do not meet again."

And then he walked away, back turned, completely vulnerable. Hektor blinked but let him go. He turned back to his men, before thrusting his sword into the air. A loud cheer erupted from his men, and a horse was brought to him. He mounted it and sought out Aeneas and Helenus.

"Where is Pandarus?" He asked with a frown.

"Dead," Aeneas replied, "killed by Diomedes in battle. He was in my chariot. It was… not a pretty death. The Achaeans marked him out as the man who shot Menelaus."

"Was he?"

"Yes," Aeneas said. "He boasted of it, until the fighting closed around him. The Achaeans wanted his blood more than perhaps that of Alexander."

"Our brother does have quite a few enemies among them, doesn't he?" Helenus mused.

Hektor gave his brother a look, before turning his horse to the city.

"We must report to our father," he said, "let us celebrate this great victory."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"A draw?" Ares asked in disbelief. "All that fighting, all that death, and it ended in a _draw_?"

"Percy would have broken them, had he stayed in the fight," Aphrodite noted primly, checking her nails. "It's a shame that you're the reason he withdrew from it, Athena."

"And Paris losing would have ended the war, only instead you snuck him away like your visits to Ares," Athena snapped back. Hermes coughed into his fist to avoid laughing. He loved the moments when Athena and Aphrodite squared off, but he had a feeling this wouldn't be a pretty one.

"Enough," Zeus rumbled, "if you insist to keep interfering, I will inform Perseus that he has free reign to do as he pleases. No more holding back, no more control. _Both_ sides will suffer."

"He's not holding back," Apollo said, "he's killed more men than any of the others combined."

"No, he's holding back," Demeter said, "this war is child's play to him. He told me himself a few years prior. I do not think any of you understand just how much of a threat that he is."

"He is still a demigod," Artemis dismissed, "powerful or not, he has limits."

"Perhaps long ago he did," Hestia said softly by her fire, "but if he did have any, they are long gone."

 **MMXVIIII**

 **The duel between Paris and Menelaus! Some of you did guess correctly, in that Athena intervened, in order to ensure that the fighting kicked off again, but Aphrodite also whisked Paris away before he could be killed, and then** _ **forced**_ **Helen to sleep with him. I'm sure you can imagine why I don't like Paris. Anyway, Percy's response was to kill an important Trojan ally and then withdraw from the fight. He supports the Achaeans, so he's not just going to turn around and lob off Nestor's head, but he can refuse to actively participate in the fighting, which is what he had planned, only the battle ended before he could. The next chapter will start with the death of Memnon, the king of Ethiopia. Take a wild guess as to who it is that will take him out.**

 **Quick Update, I just changed one of Nestor's lines slightly to better serve the next chapter.**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	6. Chapter 6

_Year Nine, Day Three_

"Perseus!" Nestor called out.

Percy cut down the man who had engaged him, carving a path to his king.

"Perseus!" The king cried again. He was cradling the body of Antilochus, who had been opened from hip to neck by a deep cut.

"I am here," he said, sliding to his side. "I am sorry, my lord, but I can do nothing for him."

"No, no, my Antilochus is dead, I know that," Nestor said, "he was killed by Memnon, King of Aethiopia. I challenged him to a duel, but he refused me. Would you avenge my son?"

"Of course, my king," Percy answered, rising to his feet. He grabbed Thrasymedes by the arm. "Close ranks around your father. Keep him secure. The Trojan will flee once I'm done with Memnon."

"How can you be sure?" The prince asked.

"Because he's a better warrior and general than Hector. Even Achilles and his Myrmidons are struggling against his forces."

"Gods be with you, Perseus," Thrasymedes said.

"They rarely are, my prince," Percy answered with a shake of his head, before striding forward. He felt a slight tug in his gut, and a loud thunderclap filled the clear sky. The armies paused, all eyes going upwards, and a gap was created between the forces, as both sides tried to figure out what had upset Zeus. Percy took advantage of it, striding forward.

"Memnon!" He called out, "I challenge you, in memory of Antilochus, whom you struck from this earth!"

There was a brief shuffle among the Trojan lines, and Percy could see a mounted Hector talking with a tall, broad man with dark skin, presumably Memnon.

"Come, Memnon, or are you a coward like the Trojan Prince who started this war?" There was a ripple among the Aethiopian lines, and Percy knew that he had Memnon.

The Aethiopian king made his way though the lines, pausing twenty paces from him.

"I am here, Perseus, son of Poseidon," Memnon stated simply, "you cannot die. How would this fight be fair?"

"It will not," Percy responded, "you will die today. But it will be a kinder death than you would have gotten from anyone else. Unless you are afraid of death?"

"I am afraid of nothing," Memnon stated, drawing his sword, "if I am to die today, so be it. I only ask that you allow me to be buried with all my possessions."

"I will take no ransom from your body," Percy nodded, and I promise no man will either."

"Then let us begin."

Memnon attacked first, slamming his spear into Percy's shield. He grunted at the strike. The king was stronger than he seemed. Then again, there were very few demigods that were born of Titans, and while Eos was lesser known, she was no less powerful than any other Titan. Percy spun away from the next assault, slamming the rim of his shield just below the neck of the spear, snapping the tip off and making the weapon useless for anything other than a rod.

Memnon backed away and drew his sword, crouching behind his large tower shield. It was designed similarly to the Trojan ones, but was far more ornate, wrought with gold, bronze, and silver. It was the work of Hephaestus, Percy had no doubt of that. He blocked an overhead strike, driving his foot into the shield. The kick wasn't strong enough to break it, but it did send Memnon back several paces. The king grunted before attacking again. Percy stepped to the side, letting Memnon rush passed him. The king was good, but Percy had been doing this since before his ancestors were kings. And he was tiring of fighting. It may just be better to end this before eit dragged on, he decided.

Memnon came towards him again, but this time Percy met the charge head on, slamming into him with his own shield, before spinning to the side and stabbing the king of Aethiopia clean through the side of the neck, the blade coming out the other side. Memnon gurgled blood out his mouth when the blade was withdrawn, and collapsed to his knees. Percy sat down by his side and laid him on his back.

"Don't try to speak," he told him, "you fought well. Your mother should be proud of you. In another life, in a world without this world, you would have been a great king to your people. Instead, you are a martyr. Take solace in the fact that your name will be remembered for Eons, the great Memnon, who fought the Firstborn of the gods, and earned his respect."

Memnon's hand went limp, and Percy rested them over his chest, placing his sword under them.

"Recover your king," Percy said to the Aethiopians, "and bury him in your customs."

He turned to Hector next.

"There has been enough bloodshed, Prince of Troy. Go home. See your wife. Tell your brother more men have died for him. Prepare for another day of war."

Turning back to the Achaean lines, Percy saw most of the men already returning to the beach. Agamemnon and Menelaus were face to face, and it wouldn't take a genius for Percy to figure out what they were arguing about. This was the third such battle that Percy had ended by killing a commander. The King of Mycenae was beginning to get fed up with Percy, which was partially why he kept doing it. Nestor was waiting for him at the top of the dune, and he embraced Percy tightly.

"Thank you, Perseus," the old king stated, "you have given me more closure than I could ever have hoped for. Thank you."

"Of course, my king," Percy bowed his head, "I have said it before, and I will continue to say it. There is no one else I would rather fight for. Perhaps one day, I would have fought for Antilochus. We may never know."

Nestor nodded, and allowed Thrasymedes to lead him away. The next man he encountered was Patroclus. Achilles' companion had a troubled look on his face.

"We have a problem," he declared. "It's to do with Agamemnon."

Percy groaned. This didn't bode well.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Agamemnon was studying his new prize when one of his guards came flying through the flap of the tent. He shot to his feet, sword already in hand when Achilles came storming in. This was expected. What _wasn't_ expected was another guard flying through, this one a Myrmidon. Perseus appeared shortly after.

"Leave, Achilles," Perseus barked.

"He stole Briseis!" The King of Thessaly exclaimed.

"I know what he's done, child," Perseus snapped, "now leave, before I remind you that you're still mortal."

Achilles was breathing heavily, but after a moment, he backed away, before leaving the tent, one last glare sent towards him. Agamemnon watched him go with a neutral expression. Menelaus, Nestor, and Oddysseus appeared shortly after, his brother giving him a knowing look.

"Thank you, Perseus, for—" He never finished his sentence, cut off by a viscious backhand that sent him tumbling to the ground.

"Perseus!" Nestor cried out.

There was a heavy pressure on his chest, Perseus kneeling on his body.

"Listen here, you arrogant child," Perseus hissed, "what you've done is so deplorable that it makes me sick to think of it. Stealing another man's war prize? What kind of _coward_ are you, Agamemnon? How are you better than Paris?"

"I—am—king!" He choked out.

"Perseus, you must get off him!" Nestor implored. After a moments hesitation, the weight was lifted.

"Achilles has withdrawn from the war until Briseis is returned to him," Perseus said, "I am of a mind to do the same thing."

"You cannot!" Nestor exclaimed, "if you and Achilles withdraw, the Trojans will attack us!"

"I do not doubt it," Perseus said, "I said that I am of a mind to do so, not that I would. Unlike you, Agamemnon, I do not allow my whims and desires to rule me. I am a practical man. I will fight, but only if the camp is attacked. Until Briseis is returned to Achilles, I will not lead any forces, nor kill any men, lest they come to the beach."

"Perseus, please," Menelaus stated, "she is just a woman!"

"So is Helen," Perseus replied, "and yet here we are, Menelaus, nine years on, recovering a woman who didn't want you. Either you do not care for your wife like you have been claiming, or you simply don't care if it happens to other men, only to you. Which is it, King of Sparta?"

His brother was silent.

"I thought so," Perseus said, turning towards the tent flap.

"Who are you to question us?" Agamemnon asked him, "you are but a farmer—a peasant. We are Kings! Royalty!"

Perseus stopped mid-stride, and it was only then that Agamemnon realised he had made a mistake. All the muscles in Perseus' body were tensed, as if he was holding himself back from throttling him again.

"Who am I?" He asked, turning around. His voice was dangerously low, and Briseis squeaked in fear. "I am the Firstborn of Poseidon, the scourge of Titans. I am the man who stormed the strongholds of Oceanus, I fought Krios, I subjugated Atlas and Iapetus. I have lived for seven thousand years, and I have killed twice as many men in that time. Who am I? I am the son of Poseidon, the lord of the seas. I am the nephew to the King of the Gods, and the lord of the underworld. I am the cousin to the god of war, the goddess of wisdom, the god of the sun, and the goddess of the moon. I am kin to the Queen of the gods, my cousin rules the underworld alongside Hades. My brother is prince of the seas, and commands great armies. Who am I? I am the champion of Olympus and Atlantis. I have more royal blood in my little finger than all of Greece combined."

The other kings were mute, eyes wide. Perseus stalked right up to him.

"Who am I to question you?" He asked, "I am the only reason that you will win this war. Forget all the prophecies, all the armies, all the heroes. I am the oncoming storm, I am the wrath of the gods. Men call me _Apollyon_ for the destruction I have wrought. The gods call me Perseus, the _destroyer_. Do you truly think I couldn't kill you all if I wished it? Who am I to question you? Who are _you_ to question me? I have been alive longer than your family has ruled Mycenae. In fact, your royal lineage is the blink of an eye to me, Agamemnon. What right does the sheep have to question the wolf? Insult me again, Agamemnon, and it will be the last time you have a tongue, king or not."

And then he was gone, the tent flap whipping with the force of his departure. It was silent for several moments before Odysseus spoke.

"Respectfully, my lord," he said, "you've royally fucked up."

 **MMXVIII**

 **A bit of a shorter chapter, but I'm happy with it. Percy's been at war for nine years, and he's just so** _ **tired**_ **of it, hence his tirade against Agamemnon. I was inspired by a myriad of speeches, among them Thor's in Infinity War, Jaime Lannister in Game of Thrones, and that one time I watched my dad tear a dude apart during a meeting. Anyway, next chapter we'll be getting closer to the end of things, and we'll start with another charming family meeting on Olympus.**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

 _Year Nine, Day Two-hundred and forty-seven_

"Eos is still inconsolable," Artemis stated, "I've assumed some of her duties for the dawn, but if she does not snap out of her grief, she may fade."

"Memnon was her pride and joy," Hera sighed, "his loss has broken her, I'm afraid."

"Such is war," Poseidon said, "loss and grief go hand in hand in this war. Mothers, wives, sisters, brothers. All have suffered."

"Yes, and how many of them are due to Perseus?" Apollo asked his uncle.

"About the same amount as Paris," Athena snapped back, "Percy may be killing them, but they are dying due to your prince's actions. Do try to remember that brother."

Apollo ground his teeth but didn't say anything. Percy still sacrificed to him, even after all this time. He sacrificed to all the gods, though he didn't say as much anymore. The general consensus was that he was tired of the war, though being oath-bound to seeing it through wasn't making him any happier. After his tirade against Agamemnon, he had done as he had promised, withdrawing from any offensive actions, only fighting to defend the camp.

He did so with brutal efficiency, to the point that the Trojan had decided that attacking the camp was costing them more than it gained. Every assault found cartloads of dead Trojans returned to the city by Percy. At first, he had done it out of courtesy, but he had soon realised how damaging it was for the Trojans to see their dead just show up outside the gates. He soon had convoys of bodies being returned. Odysseus had recommended sneaking soldiers in among the bodies, but Percy had shut that idea down, and none had dared counter him.

Achilles and his Myrmidons were still refusing to fight, though they were beginning to become anxious. Percy had declared that he was going to visit Thetis, though not even Hera knew why. All Apollo knew was that with Percy gone, and Achilles refusing to fight, now was the time to attack the Achaeans. He had sent omens to his priests, as had his sister, and now they were hoping that the Trojans would receive the message. It was their only chance.

 **XXX**

"They're praying to me, you know," Thetis stated, leaning against the coral formation. "Asking for you to return."

"I assumed as much," Percy replied, "but Achilles needs to return, and he won't if I'm present. I couldn't have made it any more obvious to Apollo as to what I was doing."

"And he still fell for it?"

"He's getting desperate," Percy shrugged, "he'll take the opportunities he can."

"And what makes you certain that my son will return to the fighting?" Thetis asked him with a curious expression. "He can be stubborn if he wants to. He got that from Peleus, most certainly."

"Are you sure about that?" Percy laughed, "I seem to remember a young goddess trying to fight me, only to camp outside my home for six months before I finally relented."

"That was different!" She exclaimed, "you were being difficult!"

"Of course," Percy dipped his head to hide his smile. It had been some time since he had genuinely smiled.

"It seems the Myrmidons have joined the battle," Thetis said after a moment, "odd, however, as my son is currently sacrificing part of his meal to me."

"You're certain?"

"Of course I am," Thetis glared at him, "I know my son."

"Then someone else is leading them," Percy said, rising from the ocean floor. "I need to go find out what I—"

He was cut off by a rapid whirlpool of water around him, before he found himself displaced in the middle of the throne room in Atlantis.

"—can. Hello father," he greeted, "is there a reason I am currently on the other side of the world?"

"You cannot return," Poseidon said, "not yet, at least. There are some things that must play out, and you would surely interfere."

"That means godly intervention," Percy said, "and you know I swore to oppose it."

"It is not," his father replied, "but the fates have decreed it, and Zeus is insisting that you not disrupt another prophecy."

"Another?" He heard Pallas mutter to the side. His eye sought her out, and he found her surrounded by Oceanids, as she normally was.

"Pallas, my favourite niece!" He exclaimed, "you look lovely as ever!"

"Uncle," she curtseyed in response. "You look tired."

"Good gods did I raise you to have no manners at all?" Amphitrite snapped at Pallas.

"It is alright, my lady," Percy told her, "she was making an observation, which is what _I_ raised her to do. You are correct, of course. I am tired. This war is matching the Titan War, and I dread the end all the same. I have seen enough death in the past nine years. I simply want peace once more."

"It will not come for some time," Poseidon sighed, "and while I am not sad to see Troy fall, it pains me to see you suffer so."

"War is war," Percy shrugged, "and I have seen my fair share of it. Part of me wonders whether I should have stayed at my farm. Another part knows that fighting for the Achaeans was the right thing to do, but there is a third part of me that says Troy does not deserve the fate it has been given. An entire city to be sacked for the folly of a boy and his lover?"

"It is the crime, not the criminal that brings this fate, my son." Poseidon reasoned.

"If that is what you wish to believe, father," Percy tipped his head. "You say I cannot be on the battlefield. I will accept that. Is there a place I may rest?"

"Of course," Poseidon said, "Pallas, will you escort Percy to his room?"

"Yes, grandpapa," she said, rising onto her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. "Come on, Uncle Percy!"

Percy chuckled, but followed his niece. He would take what rest he could before the fighting resumed.

 **XXXXX**

When Percy awoke, it was to silence. It took him less than a second to realise that he wasn't in Atlantis anymore, but in the ocean near the Achaean beachhead. He shook his head in amusement but rose and walked out of the surf. The Achaean camp was silent save for the sound of movement. Someone was wailing in the distance, and Percy had his suspicions as to who it was.

Menelaus was the first to find him, and the king looked exhausted. His arms were covered in a smattering of cuts and bruises.

"Perseus!" He exclaimed, drawing more attention, "gods be good, where have you been!"

"You keep using that term, but I don't think it's very accurate," Percy sighed, "I was detained by my father. Apparently the gods did not want me on the battlefield yesterday. What has happened?"

"Patroclus led the Myrmidons in a counter attack, wearing the armour of Achilles," Menelaus explained, "we thought it was him. He slew many Trojans, including Sarpedon, and made it to the walls of Troy. Hector came out and fought him. Hector won. I managed to recover Patroclus' body but the armour had been looted by then."

"And Achilles?"

"Inconsolable," Menelaus stated, "He has renounced his decision to stay out of the fighting. He slew many Trojans last night, but Hector would not come out to fight. He is planning on returning today to challenge him."

"Then it seems that today is the day that Hector will fall," Percy noted, "after nine years of back and forth, it happens now. Very well. Take me to Achilles, Menelaus, and I will prepare him for the fight to come."

"Of course," Menelaus tipped his head and strode off. Percy followed, and as they weaved through the camp, Percy didn't fail to note the sombre mood.

Patroclus had been well loved by the Achaeans and counted among their most ferocious warriors. As far as kills went, Patroclus trailed behind Achilles, who was behind Percy himself. That was a clear indicator of his skill, if nothing else. But beyond all of that, Patroclus had been _good_. He was kind to his prisoners, and never disrespectful to an enemy. His loss would be felt, Percy was certain of it.

When he arrived at the Myrmidon camp, he found a tent city in mourning. All the men wore black, and many of them were already showing signs of growing beards. Placed upon a temporary dais was the body of Patroclus himself, and Achilles was kneeling at the base of it, weeping. He knew the two of them had been close, deeply invested in each other, but this was pathetic.

"You should leave," Percy told Menelaus quietly, "things are about to get ugly."

The King of Sparta hesitated, but nodded and left.

"Stand up!" Percy barked at Achilles, who didn't budge. Percy growled, stalked over, and kicked him square in the chest, knocking him back. "I said _stand up_. Listen here you weeping child, Patroclus is dead. But Hector is not. Are you simply going to fall down and cry, or are you going to avenge him?"

Achilles let out a roar and charged at him, flying past when Percy stepped to the side. He spun around, breathing heavily, eyes clouded with rage.

"You're angry," Percy said, "that's good, but why are you angry at me? I didn't kill Patroclus, Hector did. Hector, the Prince of Troy, purported to be the best warrior they have, perhaps even better than you."

Achilles rushed forward again, but this time, Percy met him head on, breaking the charge with his body, slipping his leg between Achilles and hooking it back onto his left heel. The son of Thetis hissed as he collapsed to the ground.

"You may be renowned as an unbeatable warrior," Percy whispered in his ear as he kneeled on his chest, "but I was the one who advised your mother how to protect you. I know how to defeat you, Achilles. But I am not the enemy. Hector is. Hector, who killed Patroclus. Hector, who stole your armour."

The rage in Achilles' eyes dimmed some, partly from the shock he would've felt when his weak-spot was struck, and partly from understanding that Percy was right. His breathing became even, and he stopped trying to struggle. That was when Percy helped him to his feet.

"Thank you," Achilles said softly, "I must prepare to fight Hector. Will you draw him out for me?"

"No," Percy said, causing Achilles to look at him, "this is your fight. You must carry it out. Hector will come when you ask for him."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because above all, he is honourable," Percy explained, "There will be quite a few Trojans lounging outside the walls. They think they are safe from your wrath. Prove them wrong, Achilles."

"I will," he said, before pausing. "I need armour."

"I have that covered, my son," Thetis' soft voice flowed through the air. "I asked Hephaestus originally, but he would not make any armour, since you fight with Perseus."

Percy grunted in annoyance.

"But Lord Poseidon asked the Elder Cyclopes to make a suit for you," the goddess explained as she handed over a full set of armour. Percy had to admit that it _was_ beautiful.

It was made of reinforced bronze, though the centre piece was a lions head of gold that protected Achilles' chest. The whole theme of the armour seemed to be lions, in fact, with the helmet comprising of a hinged face that was wrought like a snarling lion. The gauntlets and greaves looked like paws, with the former being clawed.

"It is beautiful work," he mused, "and rather suited for you, Achilles. Treat it well."

"And here is the shield to go with it," Thetis then handed the most beautiful shield Percy had ever seen. It contained eight layers of images carved into it, almost a representation of the universe as they knew it. Achilles stared at it just as deeply as Percy was.

"Mother this is…"

"I know, my boy," she said, "but go prepare yourself. I must talk with Perseus."

"Of course, mother," Achilles kissed her on the cheek before ducking into his tent. Percy briefly caught a glimpse of Briseis, but he didn't ponder it.

Thetis led him to the outskirts of the camp, among the dunes that led to the city.

"The war is coming to an end," she said to him. "Hector will die today, and with his passing, the Trojans will begin to lose further hope. Paris will be forced to take the field, that much I am certain of. That is where another opening will be given to you."

"You're very adamant this war ends sooner rather than later. Why is that?" He asked Thetis, who sighed deeply.

"There is a prophecy," she stated, "that Achilles will die young but be remembered forever, or die old, but be forgotten. I fear I know which it will be."

"The fear of any parent is to outlive their children," Percy said, "it is especially worse for immortals, because we know it to be the case."

"We?" Thetis glanced at him in interest, "I was not aware you had any children."

"I've never created a child with another," Percy told her, "but I have raised my fair share over the years. It is never easy watching them go."

"No, it isn't," she agreed. "But Achilles is special. One of a kind."

"On that, my dear, we agree," Percy nodded towards her son, who had exited his trench and was already on the road to Troy. "I must go watch. Today, a Trojan hero dies. I should be present."

"You should," Thetis agreed, "but let Achilles do what he must. His fury will not be restrained, not even by you. Promise me, Perseus. Swear it on the Styx."

Percy hesitated. An oath on the Styx couldn't harm him, but he didn't make it lightly regardless. He treated it just as severely as anyone else.

"Promise me," Thetis reiterated.

"Very well," he sighed, "I will regret this, but I swear on the Styx to allow Achilles his revenge, without interfering."

Thunder boomed overhead, indicating that the oath had been heard, and Percy let out a deep breath.

"It is done, then," he said, "I must go now, Thetis."

"I know," she replied. "All the gods will be watching."

"I don't doubt it."

 **MMXVIII**

 **So I meant to have this chapter out sooner, I swear. I don't actually know when I'll publish it, because as of this moment, I'm flying over the Pacific on my way to Australia, and once I'm there, it'll be a few days before I have wifi, since I'm staying in my grandparents house in Sydney, which was there before wifi was a thing. They're old, so naturally they don't care about silly things like internet, or beds. The upside to this is that I'll be doing quite a bit of writing, so there's a high to likely chance that when this chapter is posted, I'll also post the last chapter of this story, and maybe an epilogue, and another chapter of Eternal.**

 **Edit: I am in Australia right now, and using a hot spot to post this. I will have better wifi in a few days, and I will be able to do more then.**

 **Some of you may be upset that I just glossed over the death of Patroclus, but I did it for a good reason. Percy is, quite frankly, a** _ **huge**_ **Gary Stue. This is intentional, because he's just** _ **that**_ **powerful. But because of that, he could change major aspects of the war. The Fates know that, so they had Zeus order Poseidon to delay Percy from returning to the war, so that Patroclus could go bye-bye without interference. That is also why Thetis makes him swear to not interfere with the Achilles/Hector Duel, which will start the next chapter.**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

 _Year Nine, Day Two-hundred-and-forty-seven_

"Hektor!" Achilles' voice was booming across the plains of Ilus, so much so that the other Achaean kings had come to investigate what was happening.

"He is challenging Hektor," Percy said simply when they arrived, "to avenge the death of his beloved Patroclus. Now it is time to see if the Prince of Troy will comply. Who's the boy?" He motioned towards the armoured youth manning Agamemnon's chariot. The boy in question bristled in anger.

"He is Neoptolemus, Achilles' son," The Mycenaean king answered smugly, "he has sworn to my service."

"Is Achilles even _aware_ he has a son?" Diomedes muttered.

"Who was your mother, boy?" Percy asked him.

"Deidamia, Princess of Scyros," he declared proudly. Odysseus spluttered loudly.

"Gods be good, how do you know that Achilles is your father then?" He asked.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Neoptolemus asked in anger, hopping off the chariot.

"We were on Scyros for perhaps half a day fifteen years ago," Nestor noted, "and while it only takes once, it seems rather remarkable that you would be sired so quickly. Achilles didn't marry your mother, if I recall."

"Listen here old man—" Neoptolemus stepped forward, but Percy cut him off, shoving him back. The boy slammed into Agamemnon's chariot, but Percy didn't care much.

"No, _you_ listen, boy," Percy growled, "that 'old man' is Nestor of Pylos, a king of Greece, and a man far your superior. You will address him with the respect he is owed, or you will not address him at all."

Neoptolemus drew his sword, but both Agamemnon and Menelaus stepped in, the former placing his hand on his shoulder, the latter snatching the weapon from his hand.

"Careful," Agamemnon warned, "that is Perseus, the Firstborn of the Gods, and Son of Poseidon. He is unkillable, and to make an enemy of him is to court an early death. And he is correct. Nestor is a king, as we all are. Son of Achilles or not, he has not recognized you. You are the bastard son of the Princess of Scyros at the moment, nothing more."

It was an interesting day when Agamemnon rose in defence of Percy, but he would take what he could get.

"HEKTOR!" Achilles bellowed again, drawing their attention back to the walls of Troy. After a moment, the gates opened, and Hektor exited. Percy hissed when he saw him.

"The gall," Menelaus shook his head, "to wear another man's armour as he fights him. The gods will not look favourably on that."

"No, they will not," Percy agreed, "and neither do I. But it does not matter. Hektor will not survive the day."

"And how can you be certain?" Agamemnon asked. "Achilles is skilled, but so is Hektor."

"Yet Hektor is mortal," he explained, "and Achilles is not. Compared to mortals, demigods are simply superior. Our reflexes are faster, our bodies are stronger, and our minds are sharper. We're able to do things most mortals wouldn't be able to. Even as the son of a lesser deity, Achilles is a step above a normal man."

"And what of Neoptolemus?" Menelaus asked, "he is the son of a demigod. What does that make him?"

"If you were to prick his finger, less than a single drop of blood would be godly," Percy said, "the rest is mortal. Deidamia is a mortal, and Achilles is a demigod. Between the two, mortal blood will win out. If she had been another demigod, perhaps the boy would be more. He is no stronger than any other fifteen-year-old."

"Interesting," Agamemnon mused. Near Troy, Hektor and Achilles finished their conversation. Then Hektor threw his spear towards the son of Thetis. Achilles simply tilted his head to the side as the projectile flew past uselessly.

Hektor paused, but drew his sword. He approached Achilles slowly, dragging his left foot slightly. Percy narrowed his eyes. It was a ploy. Achilles knew it too, and he didn't react to it, instead lashing out with his spear, slamming it into Hektor's shield. The bronze tip dug into the wood, and then Percy realised that the lame leg had only been part of the trap. Hektor's sword came down sharply, breaking the spear head off the shaft, leaving Achilles with a long rod.

He dropped the broken spear and drew his own sword. The two exchanged another series of words before both charging each other. They met with a resounding _thud,_ the force kicking up a layer of dust which was quickly blown away by a breeze. Achilles spun out of the path of Hektor's sword, bringing his shield down on the Trojan Prince's arm. Even from where they were standing they could hear it snap. Percy winced at the cry of pain Hektor let out.

Achilles smacked the blade from Hektor's other hand, before planting his foot square in his chest. Hektor made it to his knees, scrambling for his blade, but Achilles slashed down, taking several of his fingers before he could wrap his hand around it. His hand shot to his chest, and Hektor stilled. He knew what was coming. He looked up to Achilles, and his mouth moved.

Percy never knew if he answered. Achilles brought his blade down near Hektor's collarbone, the blade going straight through. He later learned that there had been a weak spot there that Achilles knew of, and had been trying to get to, but at the time, it looked like an act of immense strength. He let out a quiet sigh as Hektor slumped to the ground.

A loud scream came from the walls of Troy, and Percy could see Hektor's wife, Andromache being held back by Helenus and Deiphobus, brothers to Hektor and Paris. The latter was gripping the edge of the walls. Percy wanted to just grab a spear and kill him now, but he refrained himself. He had told Helen that she would live to see Paris die in the fall of Troy, and he intended to keep his promise.

"What is he doing?" Nestor cried out, and Percy lowered his gaze to see Achilles drive hooks through Hektor's feet, before attaching the ropes to his chariot.

"Something stupid," Percy swore under his breath.

"Will you not stop him?" Diomedes asked.

"I swore an oath to his mother that I would not interfere in his revenge," Percy sighed, "and this is part of it. I can do nothing. We must let this play out."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

For twelve days, Achilles abused Hektor's body. He spat on it every opportunity he could, dragged it around the walls of Troy, beat it and kicked it. But nothing he did would damage it. No skin was torn, no hair lost. It was flagrant intervention by Apollo and Aphrodite, but Percy let it stand. No one deserved to be given the treatment that Hektor's body was receiving under the wrath of the King of Thessaly. If Percy had known what Achilles was planning, he'd have fought and killed Hektor himself.

He found himself on the beach as the sun went down, as he normally did these days. He had found a small cove for himself, and the others knew not to approach him while he was there. He saw the flash of light behind him and the surge of power that indicated an Olympian had arrived. What surprised him was _who_ it was they had sent to speak with him.

"Aunt Hestia," he greeted without turning, patting the sand beside him. She settled down onto the ground, resting her head on his shoulder. "I will not be able to convince him to return the body. Even I am not capable of that."

"I know," she hummed beside him, "Priam will do the convincing. You simply need to escort him. Though he may not admit it to himself, Achilles values your opinion more than anyone else. If he was to see that you want this done, as well as being confronted by Priam…"

"I am surprised you came," he admitted, "I thought you to be above mortal issues. You do not even have a throne anymore."

"I did not come here for mortal matters," Hestia stated matter-of-fact, "I volunteered to come because I saw how this was tearing you apart. This war breaks my heart, that is true, but every war does. Not every war affects you like this one has. I do not like seeing you hurt so."

"You are too good for me, Hestia," Percy sighed, "where will Priam be?"

"Hermes is escorting him as we speak, though he does not know it, and it would be best if it remains that way," Hestia informed him, "they will meet you at the gates. You must escort him from there."

"Thank you, Hestia," Percy said, rising to his feet. He held a hand out for her, which she took before gracefully rising to her feet. "Once this is over, I would enjoy it if I may spend some time with you on Olympus."

"You never need to ask, my boy," Hestia smiled brightly at him, "I am always happy to receive you. For however long you wish, as well."

"I must be off," Percy said, "and again, thank you."

He made his way to the camp, but Hestia remained, most likely to take in the sea. He had chosen the spot because it was peaceful, and it brought together the moon, sky, and sea. It gave him a sense of calm that he hadn't felt often in the war. He had thought she would enjoy it.

There was barely a soul out as he wandered through the camps. The war was reaching all, and even the newer arrivals were tired. There were sentries, of course, but the Trojans had learned long ago to avoid attacking the camp when possible. They always lost more than they gained.

Seated on a wagon were two men, one hooded, the other wearing the armour of a Myrmidon. Even so, with those blue eyes and an elfish grin on his face, this could be no other than Hermes. The youngest of his cousins, Hermes had only seen three thousand years of life so far, and yet he had fought with bravery and valour during the Gigantomachy.

"Perseus?" Priam gasped silently, before bowing his head. "If I am to die, I am glad it is you."

"You will not die today, Priam of Troy," Percy said, before looking at Hermes, "I will take him from here. Return to your master."

Hermes nodded, and slid of the wagon, Percy taking his place. A silent command to the horses had them moving towards the Myrmidon tents.

"What Achilles has done…" Percy said, "I cannot condone it. I will not defend him. His actions were wrong, and he will suffer for it, I feel. Hektor's body is unblemished. It is fit for burial, but you will need to convince Achilles to return it to you. My presence will be a message enough."

"I—I understand," Priam stated, before grabbing Percy's hands, "I cannot thank you enough, Perseus."

"You will not for much longer," he told the man without looking, "I will be killing Paris. It does not matter when, but it will happen."

"I… do not wish to think on it," Priam said softly. He was resigned to it now that Percy had vocalised it.

The wagon rolled to a stop in front of Achilles' tent. Percy hopped off before helping Priam down.

"Wait here a moment," Percy instructed him before ducking into the tent. Achilles was hunched over the urn that held Patroclus' ashes, Brises by his side. Both looked up when he cleared his throat loudly.

"Perseus?" Achilles asked in surprise, "what is it?"

"Someone is here to speak with you, Achilles," Percy said, "if you draw your blade, I will defend him."

"Who is it? Who have you brought?" Achilles demanded, but Brises seemed to know, judging from the way she recoiled in surprise. Percy held up the tent flap, and Priam entered. Achilles blinked in surprise.

"Listen to what he has to say, Achilles," Percy told him, "and make your decisions afterwards."

 **MMXVIII**

 **Here we go! I think I said that there were only two chapters left last chapter, but now there** _ **are**_ **only two left, plus the epilogue, if I do it. The next chapter will deal with a massive battle beyond the walls of Troy, an arrogant River God, and spoilers, the death of Achilles. Chapter Ten will be the sack of Troy in all it's glory. The epilogue, if I write it, would cover Percy's trial, and would maybe be a thousand words. As always, leave a comment, or send me a PM, and I will try to get back to you as fast as I can, wifi considered.**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	9. Chapter 9

_Year Nine, Day Three Hundred_

The Achaean Army was mobilising. Athenians, Myceneans, Spartans, Thessalians, Argives, and a hundred other city-states prepared for battle. Percy watched it all from the top of a nearby hill, Achilles and his Myrmidons by his side. Since returning Hektor's body, the Son of Thetis had returned to a state similar to who he had been before Patroclus' death. Most surprisingly, he had returned Brises along with Hektor's body, insisting that she return to her family in Troy's final days. He had told her he would return for her when the city fell. Not exactly romantic, in Percy's opinion, but a promise was a promise, he supposed.

"It is a sight, is it not?" Achilles said, "the Trojan know we are here now, and have detached a force to contain us. It is Aeneas, I believe, which indicates they know _you_ are here as well. He is their only commander who will fight you now. Twelve duels now, is it?"

"Thirteen, actually," Percy corrected, "we fought only yesterday when he tried to raid one of our convoys."

"And yet you haven't killed him yet," Achilles noted, "why would that be?"

"Aeneas is a good opponent," he said truthfully, "he is no Hektor, no Achilles, but he is more than the average man. But he is destined for more. My father told me that Aeneas has a dark and dreary path that will lead to a bright future. I do not believe he will die at Troy, so I do not kill him."

"Should I do the same?" Achilles asked him.

"You should do as you please, Achilles," Percy answered, "the only reason I haven't killed him is because of what my father said. If he is not meant to die, he will survive you somehow. I am not beholden to fate as the rest of you are."

"If only we were all that way," Achilles sighed, "the world would be a much different place."

"Better, most likely," Percy sighed, "the Fates are a trio of Hags if there ever was one."

"Perseus!" Achilles hissed, looking around fearfully before making a clawed gesture with his hand. Percy let out a loud laugh, before leaning on his spear. Below, on the Plains of Ilus, the battle began, the Achaeans crashing into the Trojan forces. To their credit, the Trojan fought hard. The loss of Hektor had sparked a flame in them that they hadn't had before, a flame that made them fight with a vigour that most mortals only dreamed of. It wasn't a divine intervention, of that Percy was certain. He had seen it before. It was mortal fury incarnate.

The battle raged for several hours, and throughout it all, Percy, Achilles, and the Myrmidons sat on their hill, Aeneas and his forces lined on the banks of the Scamander. Percy could see the young king now. He was riding along his lines, but his gaze was drifting towards the larger battle. Percy knew exactly what internal conflict he was dealing with right now.

"He's about to make a move," Achilles noted, "Phoenix, prepare the signal—but do so discretely. We do not want to spook them into inaction."

"Good eye," Percy praised. The order was relayed, and the Myrmidons executed it to perfection. There was barely a ripple as they prepared for combat.

Below, Aeneas finally barked an order, and the last three lines of his army detached, fording the river to go assist the other Trojan forces. Percy waited until they were too far to turn back and assist the Dardanians. He raised his hand, and all shuffling stopped. He let it fall, before drawing his sword and running downhill. The thunder of twenty-five hundred men following him was the only indication he needed that the order had been obeyed. The Dardanians began yelling out as they approached, as if it would do them any good.

" _Thanatos!_ " Percy cried out. His voice cut through the air like a thunderclap, drawing strength from his power. The shout was heard at the Palace of Priam.

" _Thanatos! Thanatos! Thanatos!_ " The cry was taken up by Achilles, and then by the others. Across the river, it began echoing from the Achaean forces, as a new surge of energy rushed through them. Some would call it diving intervention, but the gods watching knew it to be something else. It was Percy.

He was the first to reach the Dardanian lines, throwing himself into the shield wall. One of the spears managed to punch through a weak spot in his armour, driving right through his body. Percy grunted, but continued pressing forward, moving up the shaft. The man wielding it began panicking and trying to shake him off it, but he had no such luck. Percy got close enough to strike before beheading him.

Behind him, a Myrmidon grabbed the spear head and yanked it through, freeing Percy from it. He had already moved on, killing another three men with quick, strong blows. Achilles was carving his own path through, and the majority of the Myrmidons had begun engaging Aeneas' forces. Percy couldn't see the son of Aphrodite, but he assumed he was trying to figure out exactly _what_ went wrong.

He batted a weak thrust from a sword aside before hamstringing the man who had tried to use it on him, slicing his throat open a moment later. He slammed the rim of his shield into the throat of another, the strike killing him immediately, while a third man ran into his blade, impaling himself on it. A gap formed around him as the Dardanians realised that he wasn't some soldier like the others. The fact that it took them till now to realise just _who_ he was amused him beyond belief. So much so that he began laughing. Loudly. The Dardanians around him began shuffling nervously as he _howled_ with laughter. Achilles joined in, and soon, all the other Myrmidons were roaring with laughter. That was when the wave hit.

If he had been expecting it, Percy would've been able to counter it, but he didn't think that there was a god anywhere in the world who hadn't heard of his declaration of what would occur if they intervened. Still, the water didn't do anything more than send him flying backwards. Others weren't so lucky. Percy saw Myrmidons who had been flattened by the impact, others who had their necks and spines snapped by the force of the water. Achilles somehow escaped harm, but that became clear when he saw the ten foot tall being descending on the son of Thetis. Percy knew him by reputation, but not sight.

Scamander, the god of the river they were fighting in.

Percy growled as he made his way through the knee high water towards the two. The river tried to stop him, but he refused to be waylaid by _water_ , and forced it aside. The strength which he did so was surprising, and Scamander looked up in shock at having his own river betray his commands. He narrowed his eyes at Percy.

"I don't know who you are, demigod, but you are not welcome here!" He barked.

"Oh, I wish you hadn't said that," Percy grinned, "very well. I am known to men and gods alike as Perseus Apollyon. Do you know who I am now, Scamander?"

The god's eyes widened.

"Go on, Achilles," he ordered, "take this fight to the gates of Troy. I will meet you once I have dealt with this upstart god."

"Upstart god?" Scamander roared, his focus turned entirely to Percy. Achilles looked at him warily, but Percy gave him a single, firm nod. The son of Thetis crossed without issue, rallying the rest of the Myrmidons to him with a single bellow. "I'll show you who's the upstart!"

"Oh, please," Percy scoffed, "Atlas didn't frighten me. Iapetus didn't frighten me. Krios, Koios, not even _Kronos_ frightened me. What makes you think a _little creek_ will?"

Scamander let out a roar and charged Percy, a sword of water forming in his hands. Percy blinked as he stepped to the side, letting the blade fall into the water. Scamander was furious, raging about bodies clogging his rivers, poisoning the source of life that had existed for thousands of years. Percy had heard it all before, and he didn't really care for it. He stepped forward, slashing Scamander's leg and creating a long gash that leaked ichor. The River God roared and tried to backhand Percy. He was intercepted by a shield with the face of Medusa embossed on it.

"A-a-Athena!" Scamander whimpered. Percy shot his cousin a look, but she ignored him, focusing on the River God.

"You were warned, Xanthos, as to what would happen if you interfered," Athena told him, "you have one opportunity to withdraw from the field of battle, or my father will send Lord Poseidon to deal with you," Athena paused, glancing at Percy, "he is not happy that you would engage his son."

Scamander stared at the two for a moment, before vanishing back into his river. Athena turned to him.

"You must hurry!" She told him, "Apollo just took to the field. I do not know where he is!"

Percy swore, and took off towards where the fighting was.

The Achaeans had pushed the Trojans to the walls of the city, Achilles and his Myrmidons at the lead. Percy could see Menelaus and Diomedes on the left flank, battering the Trojans there, while Thrasymedes led the forces of Nestor on the right. But Percy ignored it all as he looked upon the golden figure on the walls of Troy. Apollo hadn't even bothered to disguise himself to Paris, he was standing there in all his glory, pointing to something—someone—by the gates. Percy's eyes narrowed before widening.

Achilles was at the gates.

He let out a cry as he rushed forwards. Men broke as he slammed into them, and he didn't care from which side they belonged. A sword sliced open his sides, but he pressed forward. An arrow caught him in the throat, but he yanked it out as he ran. And then, _five_ men piled onto him. He grunted, driving his sword up, killing two at once, before driving his fist straight up and snapping a man's neck with the force of the strike. The fourth had his throat crushed, and Percy didn't even bother with the fifth, shooting back to his feet.

"Achilles!" He called out. The son of Thetis turned—right as an arrow pierced his left ankle. He stiffened before collapsing. Percy rushed to his side. "Breath, boy. Breath. That's it. Deep breaths. Stay calm."

There was blood sputtering out of his mouth.

"Ph—Phoenix" he coughed.

"Phoenix!" Percy bellowed. The Myrmidon was by his side in a flash.

"F-foll—follow Percy," Achilles gasped out, "and th-then go h-ho-home."

"Yes, my king," Phoenix nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

"Tell my mot-mother she w-w-was r-right," Achilles spluttered, before stilling in Percy's arms. Percy laid his body down gently before rising. All around, the fighting had stilled. He looked up to the walls, where a smug Apollo stood beside an awed Paris.

The smug look vanished when he saw Percy's face. He blinked out of sight a moment later.

Percy didn't know where the roar came from. He didn't register snatching Achilles sword, or shield. He didn't register as he slaughtered the Trojans at the walls, or how they begged for mercy, for their lives. He didn't notice as the Achaeans withdrew from the battle, Odysseus bearing Achilles' body as Ajax the Greater protected him. He didn't notice any of it. His vision was red. It was only when he was body checked by someone far too strong to be mortal did his vision snap back into focus.

He rolled nearly forty metres before coming to a stop, and it was only Ares' concerned face that made him pause.

"You were killing too many," Ares said after a moment, when his breathing had slowed, "Troy is going to fall soon, but not today. I'm sorry for interfering. Do what you will."

"I'm, uh," Percy paused, looking at the carnage he had left in his wake. Percy had killed over a thousand men before this battle. He had killed another four hundred. He could feel their blood seeping into the ground, into the air. Men lined the walls, watching him in fear, and Paris had long since fled. "I'm going back to the camp. I need to talk with the kings."

Ares blinked in surprise, but nodded.

"You did the right thing, Ares," Percy said suddenly, "stopping me, I mean. I don't… I don't want this to happen again. It _can't_ happen again."

"I understand," Ares told him, eyes becoming clouded. "You need to go to the camp. There's about to be a fight. Stop it before it escalates."

Percy nodded, and began jogging to the beach.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Odysseus and Ajax were in each other's faces when he arrived, and the larger man looked ready to draw his blade.

"Enough!" Percy roared, making his presence known. The men immediately around him cowered back, having seen his rage first hand. "What is this?"

"Ajax says he deserves Achilles armour for protecting me while I carried his body, _armour included_ , to safety." Odysseus snarled. "I say I deserve it for carrying it back."

"I fought them off!" Ajax shot back, "I stopped them from killing you!"

"Oh for gods' sake!" Percy snapped. "The armour is mine! I drove the Trojans back! I slaughtered a small army of them! I was chosen by Achilles to lead the Myrmidons!"

Both Odysseus and Ajax recoiled at the outburst. Agamemnon took the opportunity to defuse the situation.

"Perseus is correct," he said, "the men that attacked you were stragglers, but Perseus stopped the main force in it's tracks. As for commanding the Myrmidons… I know nothing, but shouldn't Neoptolemus take command of his father's forces?"

That was when Phoenix pushed his way forward, surprising the youth who had look so assured of his command.

"I was there," he said, "when Achilles fell. He told me to follow Perseus. That applies for the rest of the Myrmidons. Son of Achilles Neoptolemus may be, but he was not chosen by his father. As the highest ranking Myrmidon, I say that his armour goes to Perseus, and I'm sure my brothers agree."

Phoenix turned to the silent contingent of Myrmidons and raised his hands. The men, who until now had been silent, let out a roar in unison.

"The Myrmidons have spoken," Agamemnon declared, "Perseus will acquire Achilles' armour and his command of the Myrmidons."

Ajax and Odysseus grumbled, but agreed. Neoptolemus looked ready to fight Percy for the right of the armour, but Menelaus managed to talk him down. Percy looked at all who were present. He made a show of taking his armour off and replacing it with the master piece that was Achilles' set.

"I am going to be alone now," Percy said, "any man who disturbs me loses their life. I will return when I am ready."

He didn't wait for an acknowledgement, instead walking to his cove. The crowds parted before him, creating an opening.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

He was alone for half the night before he felt that familiar presence behind him. Her visits had been few and far between since the war started, but it was better that way.

"Athena," he murmured. His cousin, unlike Hestia, remained standing. He wanted to smile, but couldn't find it in himself. Instead, he rose to his feet. "What can I do for you, my lady?"

"Don't call me that," she told him, "not now. I know what Achilles meant to you, Percy. I have a plan for you to get revenge."

Percy paused, and turned to her.

"Apollo sealed the fate of his city when he guided Paris' arrow," he said, "so tell me what you have in mind, Little Owl."

"Well," she started slowly, "it's a horse."

 **MMXVIII**

 **There we go! The battle with Scamander and the death of Achilles. In the Iliad, Ajax kills himself after slaughtering a herd of sheep he thinks are the kings and soldiers who gave Achilles' armour to Odysseus. Though it isn't mentioned here, and won't be mentioned in the next chapter, that's what happens again. Well, I shouldn't say it won't be mentioned—the lack of Ajax will be noted, but mostly because they've got Lesser Ajax with them. It just won't be addressed how he died, because it's a shameful way for anyone to go. One more chapter, which is the sack of Troy itself. I'm thinking that there won't be an epilogue, because I want to get back into Eternal as well. As always, leave a comment or send me a PM!  
**

**Cheers, CombatTombat**


	10. Chapter 10

_Day Three hundred and eighteen_

"Where are they?" Paris murmured as he rode to the beach. A scout had reported that the Greek forces had retreated, sailing out to sea, leaving only the remnants of their came behind. His father was already there, along with Helenus, Deiphobus, and Aeneas. With the death of Hector, the King of Dardania had taken command of the Trojan forces, against Paris' protests, and had promptly ensured that Paris never left the megaron.

They blamed him for Hector's death, he knew. Andromache wouldn't have him anywhere near her, and the one time that Helen had gotten close, she nearly got her face raked off by the grieving widow. Even his father, Priam, was stiff around him. Hecuba was the only one who didn't treat him any differently, though she still mourned for her eldest son.

When he arrived, Paris found his father and Aeneas interrogating a solitary Greek.

"They've just left?" Aeneas asked the man, who was sitting and poking a dying fire.

"Yes," the man confirmed, "Perseus and the Myrmidons forced them to. Any king who wanted to remain fought him. The deal was, if any of them beat him, they'd see the siege through. If he beat all of them without a break, they'd sail off. I don't know why they took such a stupid wager. Apollyon destroyed them. The son of Achilles challenged him. It wasn't even a fair fight—Perseus simply slammed his head down on the boy and he crumpled. Not that I'm complaining, that Neoptolemus is a monster. Nothing like his father."

"And why are you here?" Priam asked, "Sidon, was it?"

"Ah, Odysseus wanted to sacrifice me to Poseidon for good winds," the man waved his hand dismissively.

"He wanted to what?" Helenus blinked.

"Sacrifice me," Sidon repeated, "we've had a rivalry since this war started, Odysseus and me. I've always been a firm supporter of trying for peace. Odysseus never liked that. He's tried to kill me in battle before," he lifted his arm, showing a long gash that went along his side, "that was a gift from him in the last battle we fought."

Paris winced at the memory. They had awoken to find the Myrmidons lined up outside the walls, a man wearing the armour of Achilles at their lead. At first, they had thought it _was_ Achilles, returned from the dead. Aeneas had led the sally out, only for the trap to be sprung. Diomedes and his men had buried themselves in the sand, letting the Trojan run over and around them, before shooting to their feet and attacking the flanks.

Paris learned that it was Perseus wearing Achilles armour when he watched him slaughter three of his brothers with a single stroke of his sword. Priam had collapsed next to him at the sight, though his mother looked just a tad pleased at seeing more of Priam's bastards gone from the world.

"They've returned because Perseus demanded it?" Aeneas asked. Sidon nodded.

"Aye, the Firstborn became sick of war. Antilochus, Achilles, even Hector's death tipped the scale for him," Sidon explained, "so here we are. I'm sitting on the beach with this stupid horse, and you're here interrogating me."

"How did you escape Odysseus?" Paris asked him, making his presence known, "if he wanted you sacrificed, how did you escape?"

"Ah, Perseus warned me in the dead of the night," Sidon said, "so I fled to the marshes and hid in the reeds," he motioned to his neck, which was plastered in mud, "still got some leftovers. Haven't bathed yet."

"And the horse?"

"An offering to Poseidon," Sidon nodded at the behemoth, "supposedly it was built to be too large to cross through your gates, so that you couldn't take it for your own. It was built by Greeks, for Greeks."

"Then we _must_ take it," Helenus said, "if we dedicate it to Poseidon instead of the Greeks, he may seek their fleets!"

"How will we get it through the gate, brother?" Deiphobus mused, "it can't come through the east gate, it's too large for that."

"We shouldn't take it," Paris heard himself saying, "it's a trap. It must be."

"Don't be absurd," Helenus scoffed, "this is a blessing from the gods! The Greeks are gone, and now we have our own offering to Poseidon!"

"Why would they just give up?" Paris asked, "it makes no sense!"

"They've been bloodied too much," Priam said, "Aeneas has cost them too much."

The king of Dardania was staring at the horse. He ran his hand along one of the legs, before pulling a knife out and jamming it in. He withdrew it, and grain began falling out.

"What's this, hmm?" He asked Sidon.

"Well we couldn't just build a horse now, could we?" The man responded defensively, crossing his arms, "we stuffed the lower legs with grain to serve Demeter, hoping she would assist Poseidon in keeping the winds calm."

"It's a trap," Paris said again, "we shouldn't take it in. This is what they want!"

"And how would you know that, brother?" Deiphobus sneered, "you haven't left the city since Menelaus beat you in that duel—do you remember? The one that could have saved thousands of lives? How would you know what the Greeks want? Have you talked to any recently?"

"We take it in," Priam declared, "the gates on the Skanian entrance will have to be removed to let it through. We'll dedicate it to Poseidon inside the walls."

"Father—" Paris tried, but Priam cut him off.

"I have spoken, Alexander, and so it will be!" He snapped, "The horse enters the city. Alexios, send riders back to have men start on the gates and send more to help pull the horse. Get this man some fresh clothes and a pail of water. The celebrations begin tonight!"

The men around them let out a loud cheer, and riders shot off to relay the orders. Paris couldn't help but feel this was all horribly wrong. Priam wrapped an arm around him.

"It's alright my boy," he said, "we've won. Our sacrifices have not been in vain."

Paris hoped it was true.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Sidon laughed as he was handed another mug of ale. This was his thirteenth one, and he had yet to imbibe any alcohol at all, not that the Trojan realised it. They thought he was just as drunk as they were. Even more amusing were all the women who threw themselves at him for 'outfoxing the wily Odysseus!'

Outfoxing Odysseus! The idea was ridiculous. Along with Perseus, Odysseus had masterminded this entire plot, and it was only due to his brilliance that they would get into the city. Outwitting the favourite of Athena—the notion was laughable. He could see large spouts of flames from the performers in the megaron, and he spotted Helen watching from the balcony. He raised his mug to her. The others around him, soldiers, prostitutes and civilians saw what he was doing, and who too, and they all joined him in raising their mugs.

Oh, if only they knew what was coming.

By midnight, the only man other than Sidon standing was the guard who watched the horse. He stumbled his way over before dropping his breeches, pausing in front of one of the legs.

"Gotta take a piss," he said loudly. The guard scoffed in disgust and turned away. That was exactly what he had been waiting for. His dagger slipped into his hand and he covered the guard's mouth before slitting his throat to the bone. The guard collapsed to the ground. He tapped the leg of the horse three times, then two, then three again. There was some shuffling above him before a false panel was removed, and a rope dropped down.

Perseus was the first down, and he appraised Sidon before grinning and clasping his shoulders. Five Myrmidons followed him, and then Odysseus, Diomedes, Ajax the Lesser, Menelaus, Agamemnon, and Nestor all dropped, each one bringing two or three men with them.

"Get to the gates," Perseus ordered the Myrmidons, "Ajax, Nestor, get to the walls and light the signal. The rest of you, help me clear this courtyard."

There was no response, just men rushing off to do their jobs. Odysseus patted him on the back before handing his sword back.

"Fantastic work, my friend," he praised, before stabbing on of the guards passed out on the floor.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

By the time the Trojans realised they were being invaded, it was far too late. As always, the Myrmidons led the charge into the city, Phoenix and Eurodos cutting a path directly to where Percy was. He had just finished off two nobles who thought they could stop the rampaging Achaeans.

"Find the Temples of Apollo," he ordered, "leave the priests alive, but take it all. Take it to the cliffs, and sacrifice it all to my father and Thetis, do you understand?"

"Perfectly, my lord," Phoenix nodded, "and what of you?"

Percy raised his sword towards the megaron.

"I've a meeting with a prince of Troy, and the Queen of Sparta," he said, "gods be with you. May you return to your homes without issue."

"And you, Perseus," Phoenix nodded, "Achilles made the right choice with you, my lord. I am glad I lived to fight with you."

Percy smiled in response, before starting up to the Megaron. That would be where the fiercest fighting was. Even if all of Priam's court was drunk, the many, many guards stationed inside would not be. That much was certain.

As he crested the hill, he found himself to be correct. Menelaus was leading the charge trying to break through the defences. Agamemnon was standing further back, nursing a cut to his side.

"Pull your brother back," Percy told him, "I'll break through the line. Just… be ready to follow my lead."

Agamemnon stared at him for a moment before nodding.

"Menelaus!" He bellowed, "to me!"

The king of Sparta roared out in anger, but obeyed, killing a man who thought to follow him. The other Spartans pulled back in a more orderly fashion, reforming their lines with their Mycenaean cousins.

"I almost had them!" He complained.

"No, you didn't," Percy said, "but I'm about to."

He took in a deep breath before the familiar tugging in his gut began. It had been many years since he had used his powers to this extent, but not too long that it was difficult. The earth began shaking as the ground tossed and turned, a line heading straight for the walls of the megaron, the men defending it outside being swallowed by the earth. The line impacted the wall, and nothing happened—for a moment.

The wall exploded inwards, an entire section of the megaron vanishing. Percy grabbed Agamemnon's arm.

"Andromache lives," he said, "I will kill Paris, I will kill Priam, Helenus, Deiphobus, Aeneas if I have to, but Andromache and her son live, do you understand?"

Agamemnon nodded, though his eyes flashed for a moment. Percy didn't see it, as he was already moving back towards the newly formed hole in the defences. He raised his shield to deflect an arrow before leaping over the rubble into the inner palace. Men were fighting and dying around him, but he had one objective to start with—Helen and Paris.

It didn't take him long—he spotted the prince ushering Helen away through a side door, before bolting it shut. Percy sighed. Why he thought that would stop him, he did not know. He marched straight to the door and planted his armoured boot in the centre of it, the wood shattering as the bolt bent in half before breaking. Paris fired an arrow at him, but it glanced off his helmet. Another five arrows saw the prince run out, and though Percy had to pull one from his eye, he didn't care much.

"I've waited long for this day, Paris," Percy said as he stalked closer. The prince shakily drew his sword, "I knew the moment that I arrived at Agamemnon's camp that I would be the one to kill you. There was no other option—not for you, and not for me. Someday, people will crow about fate, and destiny. Perhaps they are right, but I have never let it dictate me. You couldn't even give Achilles the honour of a proper death. Instead, you hid on the walls and let Apollo guide you. Such a shame. I was planning on making this quick."

Paris let out a war-cry as he charged forward. Percy slammed his head down, just as he had to Neoptolemus during the mock fight. Paris fared no better, collapsing to the ground in a pile of limbs. He grabbed his by the scruff of his neck before lifting him. His sword cut the straps on Paris' chestplate, and the armour fell to the ground. He opened a long, deep slit along his stomach before tossing him aside.

"Paris!" Helen cried out, but she didn't move. Not with Percy's focus on her.

"Let's return you to your husband now, shall we?" Percy asked, before pausing. There was something different in the air. A lack of… eyes, so to speak. The gods weren't watching, though whether or not it was their choice, he didn't know.

"Kill me!" Helen suddenly begged, "I cannot return, Perseus! Agamemnon will have me raped and tortured, and Menelaus will let it happen! Just kill me, _please!_ Do not subject me to that fate! Please!"

Percy hesitated. He hadn't been expecting _this_. A vision flashed before his eyes—a war, fought by children, a boy who looked like him standing in the throne room of Olympus before a golden-eyed figure. The vison shifted, showing himself in Tartarus, standing before a giant, who eyed him curiously. A battle amid the ruins of Mount Orthys, Atlas standing over… Zoe?

His mind cleared, and Percy knew what he had to do.

"I truly am sorry," he said as he stepped forward, "you should have stayed with Menelaus."

And then his sword went forward. Helen gasped as she looked down, her dress stained crimson. He withdrew the blade and turned, letting her collapse to the ground. He had other places to be.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Andromache ran, Astyanax clutched tightly to her chest. The Senate house would be safe—it had to be! Priam stumbled behind her, but she paid her good-father no mind. He wasn't her priority, her son was. They entered the Senate house, and Priam slammed the doors shut behind him, before lowering a hinged slab of wood on the door. They wouldn't be able to lift it now, she a woman and he and old man, but at least they were safe.

"Oh, look what we have here," a low voice laughed, and Andromache turned to see a young boy, armoured like the Mycenaeans, stalk out of the shadows. "Agamemnon thought you would come here. I've been ordered to kill you all, you see, so that I can retake control of the Myrmidons from the usurper Perseus."

This was Neoptolemus, Andromache realised, it had to be. His cruelty was renowned in Troy, and if they had just locked themselves in with him…

"Let them live," Priam begged, "kill me, but let Andromache and Astyanax live!"

Neoptolemus laughed again, a cruel, high sound. He truly was a boy, Andromache realised. Before she could even blink, the door shattered open, fragments of wood flying forward and spraying the room. Somehow, it all missed her entirely. Expecting to see an army charging in to slaughter them, she instead saw a single figure, blade dripping with blood, an angry snarl on his face.

"I warned him!" He roared, stalking into the room, "and yet he still sent you, the _lapdog_. It matters little. You'll die like any other man."

"These are Trojans!" Neoptolemus exclaimed, but there was nothing he could do. Perseus smacked his blade aside before running his sword directly through the boy's heart, right through the thickest part of his armour.

Perseus wrenched the blade out and let Neoptolemus fall to the ground. He turned to Andromache and Priam, his eyes softening as he saw her clutching the babe.

It was at that moment that Aeneas ran in, not even armoured, a sword in each hand, both bloody. He paused as he saw Perseus, blinking when he saw the body beneath him.

"Is there a secret way out of the city?" Perseus asked Priam, who was shaking. "Priam!"

"Y-y-yes," he stammered, "to the west, but there are too many—"

"I'll deal with the Greeks," Perseus spat the word, turning to Aeneas, "rescue as many of your people as you can. Leave Troy, sail west, past Greece. Find Latium. Settle there! Priam, take Andromache south, to Egypt, you'll safe there."

And then he was gone.

Andromache heard a surprised 'Perseus?' which was quickly followed by death cries. Aeneas grabbed her by the arm.

"We must go!" He hissed.

Andromache did the only thing she could. She followed

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ajax had been raping a woman in the temple of Athena when he found him. The sight infuriated him so much that he tore the man off, stomping his throat under his boot. He cut down the other six men who had been doing the same. Cries of surprise and protest emerged from the Greeks, who ran as fast as they could from him.

Percy hated what he was doing, he really did, but he needed to prompt a response from the Olympians.

Agamemnon and Diomedes found him next.

"Perseus! What are you doing?" Diomedes asked, swearing when he saw Percy crush the throat of one of his men in his spare hand. He let out a war cry and charged.

It was admirable, Percy supposed, but it wouldn't do him any good. He struck out, opening Diomedes from collar to hip. It wouldn't kill him if he had a good surgeon, which he knew for a fact that he did. Agamemnon on the other hand…

"Perseus stop!" the king demanded, his two guards cut down as they tried to stop him, "we are your—ack!"

Percy grabbed him by the throats and lifted him off the ground.

"I warned you," he said quietly, "and this is what happens when I am betrayed."

He squeezed, the cracking of bone followed rapidly by the cessation of struggling. He dropped the body before spitting on it.

"Here you are, Agamemnon," he spat, "the ruin of your pride!"

He looked up. There were more men to kill.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The haymaker hit him with the force of a stampeding herd of bulls, lifting him clear off his feet and sending him flying out of the city. Percy slammed into the foothills of Mount Ida. He rose to his feet only to have his father's trident impale his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Poseidon said, "but I cannot allow this to continue!"

An arm wrapped around his throat and began squeezing. For all that he couldn't be killed, not being able to breathe still had the desired effect on him. His vision began to darken as his father removed his trident. His last sight was of the tears building in his father's eyes.

When he awoke, he was on Olympus, staring at Zeus, who in turn was studying him. He became aware of the arguing that was going on around him. But the moment he shifted, it stopped. Zeus leaned forward in his throne.

"You're awake," he rumbled, "good. Let's get this started."

"Get _what_ started, exactly?" Percy asked, even though he already knew. It was better to get confirmation while he could.

"Your trial."

 **MMXVIII**

 **So no trial. I weighed the pros and cons of writing it, but decided that in the end, it doesn't matter. Eternal does a great job of summing up what happened. Now, as to what I did here. Percy is entirely aware of what he's doing. He receives a vision showing him parts of the future, specifically, the beginning of Eternal and the confrontation with Kronos in the Throne Room of Olympus. I was asked if Percy and Athena are 'together.' They are not. Percy raised Athena as a child, taking on the role that Triton has in Mythology, which is also why Pallas is alive in Eternal. Someone asked if this story would have a sequel, to which I respond thusly—this is the prequel to a story I am** _ **already**_ **writing. I think I stated at the beginning of this story that it was a prequel to Eternal, and I'm pretty sure I've said so since, but just to clarify for those who don't read these notes, yes, this story has a sequel, and it's already published.**

 **I'm going to rest for a day or so, and then I'll continue writing Eternal. As for the rewrite of Son of Neptune, I've written the first chapter so far, and I have a working title for you guys.** _ **Vas Bellicosum**_ **, which is Latin for 'Instrument of War.' Let me know what you think.**

 **As always, feel free to comment or send me a PM, and I hope you enjoyed** _ **The Perseid**_ **. I certainly enjoyed writing it.**

 **Cheers, CombatTombat**


	11. Not a Chapter, or, The Greatest Review

**The Greatest Review Ever**

This clearly isn't a chapter, but I got two reviews from someone earlier that I just _have_ to share. I think he went and deleted them, cuz I sure as hell didn't, but I still have them here and they're amazing.

Quast: I like Neoptolemus you f***, he was the ancestor of Olympias of Epirus, Mother of Alexander the Great and Pyrrhus I of Epirus, you f*** traitor.

Quast:This is why Percy is NOT mt favorite character; his f*** loyalty towards women, not the greeks. I understand Neoptolemus but not you. I hate you. You're an a***. You're no greek, you're trojan or should i say roman. I will break all of you're bone and then i will beat you into a bloody pulp.

I wouldn't normally address this but it's just so funny I have to. Like, dude, I get it, you liked a character, but my man, there's no reason to be so aggressive. It's just a story. If you hate it so much, stop reading. No one forced you to. I also love how he's so angry that he's threatening to beat me into a bloody pulp and break all my bones. Very original, I must say, and very inspiring. I hope to hear more from this guy, tbh, because it was damn funny to wake up and read these.

Cheers, CombatTombat


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